I'm career military. Most people see me as a hard-bitten U.S.A.F. colonel. A few people - a very few - have suggested that I need to get in touch with my feminine side. Little do they know. Even a hard-bitten U.S.A.F. colonel needs to relax, chill out a little, when he gets home.

Ok, so my way of relaxing is to slip into something totally different from my B.D.U. So what? I'm not doing anybody any harm. It's not like I'm going out molesting kids on my days off, for crying out loud. It's just my little secret and I'd intended it to stay that way. But circumstances have a way of conspiring against us...

Old Murphy must have been laughing his socks off today when General Hammond decided to send a report over to my house by private delivery. It would be the one day that I'd been careless enough - or complacent enough - to leave the front door unlocked. And I'm well served for my procrastination in not getting the door-bell fixed the day it packed up. Oh well. No excuses. What happened next is largely my own fault.

I'd settled on having a quiet evening at home and watching a hockey match on T.V. There's a commercial break so I head for the kitchen to get myself a beer when a voice behind me says,

"Er, excuse me, ma'am—"

Of all the people in all the world who might've choose to walk through that unlocked door, it just had to be the geek, the nerd, the dweeb, the bane/love of my life - archaeologist, Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Of course, I would never, ever, have entertained the notion of letting him know what I felt for him. How could I? I'd no reason to think that he saw me as anything other than a colleague - and ok, a friend.

I guess I had to face my own feelings when I thought I'd left him to die alone, the day we blew up Apophis's ships. Seeing him safely back in S.G.C. against all hope was ... well, just for a moment, my heart soared. But that was just because he was a friend as well as a member of my team— Right?

I've kept my eye on him ever since, and God knows, he needs it! I've never known anyone with such a knack for getting into trouble, and it's always with the best of intentions. Neither fear nor common sense will stop him once he gets the bit between his teeth, either.

Not many people have the brass neck to question the things I do, but he'll argue the toss till the cows come home, given half a chance. Or even if he isn't. It's his earnestness, the conviction that his cause is just, that gets to me every time. He doesn't care that I sometimes find it hellish irritating. And if I don't go along with his ideas, he'll go it alone, because he knows he's right - and usually he is, damn it.

It took me a long time to admit to myself that my feelings for him go far beyond what the military would approve. That sensitive smile and those intelligent blue eyes finally got to me. And I'd have been willing to bet any money he'd no idea what a cute butt he's got.

For months now I've been watching him when he wasn't looking, especially when he was down on all fours scrabbling in the dirt for some chunk of broken pottery. Oh god, sometimes he wiggles that cute butt and I'm very thankful that I've an P-90 to hide behind.

Now, he's here, standing in my hallway and I have nothing to hide behind. All I can do is hope he'll say what he's come for and then leave - without noticing. His eyesight isn't the most acute on the planet. But I'm right out of luck.

"Jack?" he asks, tentatively.

He sounds kind of uncertain, but The Game is definitely Up. I sigh and offer him a beer which he accepts, still sounding quite surprised. So far, so good. He's known for his compassion and his generosity, so I figure a beer or three, a bit of laughing and teasing, and he'll agree never to mention it again.

Well, I really missed my mark on that one! As I reach into the 'fridge for a beer, the little rat creeps up behind and lifts my skirt.

"Scarlet 'Frenchies'? Jack! You— you slut!" he exclaims.

Feeling a little guilty, I turn around and give him an enquiring look. I suspect he's just funning and hope to brazen it out but, dear God, he isn't funning at all. He has a look of utter contempt on his face and his voice grates as he says,

"Colonel O'Neill, you're a disgrace to your uniform!"

It feels like he just smacked my face. It takes my breath away. I look at the wall, at the sink, at the carpet, anywhere but at him. I just can't look the object of my adoration in the eye.

"And if you're going to dress up like a two-bit hooker," he sneers, "then for God's sake lock the door, or at least get your bell fixed. That way, I wouldn't have been obliged to see you like this. Colonel, I am deeply shocked."

So am I. I can't believe this is the caring and compassionate Dr. Jackson talking. This is like a totally different person. How can you work as closely with a guy as I do with my team, and never suspect that he has a mean streak like this? To say I'm stunned is a major understatement.

"It really was crass stupidity to leave the door unlocked, you know." he says coming up real close.

He's talking soft and low, but the ice in his voice chills me to the marrow. For an archaeologist, he can be freakin' scary...

"After all," he goes on, sounding like Hannibal Lector, "you have no idea what kind of... pervert... could walk in off the street and take advantage of you..."

To make his point, he thrusts a knee between my legs, and slides his hand inside my sexy scarlet Frenchies. Christ Almighty, he's got a hold of my balls! Now this is getting scary. I lift my eyes to his for a moment. There's a definite predatory gleam in those normally innocent blue eyes. This isn't just a quick fumble; his hand's still there, stroking and squeezing.

"What the fu— ?" I begin, but get no further.

His other hand cradles my head and he's pressing his mouth over mine. His kiss is hard and intense and under any other circumstances, I'd be in heaven right now. He's still fondling me and I can't control my response to his caresses. My cock stiffens and thickens, telling him that, in spite of the whole 'Don't ask, don't tell' thing, I want him.

I give in to my desire. I let him into my mouth. I feel his tongue probing, tantalizing. I work my own tongue around his. The sensations are electric. Dear God, please let this kiss last forever!

But it doesn't. Daniel pulls away, breathing deeply. I'm breathless too.

"Oh God, Daniel! What are we doing?" I gasp.

"Well, I know what I'm doing," he replies, coldly and quietly, "and you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Remember, it's your career on the line here."

I'm confused. I'm getting all the wrong messages. How can he kiss me like that then freeze my heart with his coldness. Fire and ice... Christ, what's going on. I seriously need some clarification.

"Daniel?" I begin, "I thought..."

"I didn't ask you to think, fuckwit. That's my department. You just obey— Understood?"

He reinforces the message by squeezing my balls. It brings tears to my eyes.

"Understood..." I croak. What else can I say for fuck's sake?!

"Right, ah, good. So - get down on your knees— tramp," he orders arrogantly, uncaringly, like he's suddenly turned into a god-damned snakehead.

So I do as he says. I just feel numb. He's unfastening his pants as he speaks. He slides his pants and boxers down over his hips and his cock, then lets them slither towards his ankles. I stare at the magnificent erection before me. Of course, I've seen him naked before, in the locker room when he's gone for a shower, but this is something else again!

He pulls off the blonde wig and tosses it aside, then he takes my head between his hands, and runs his fingers roughly through my hair.

"Now," he continues, still softly menacing, "you're going to suck me off, and when I come, you're going to swallow. Clear?"

Slightly dazed, I nod. He's just ordered me to do something I've been longing to do, been fantasizing about for months - and never dreamed would ever happen.

But in my fantasies it was never like this. In my fantasies, it was an act of love. This? It feels like he's using me, like the tramp he just called me. But with his cock that close, glistening with pre-come already, I'm not going to pass up the chance to find out what he tastes like.

I lick my lips and slide them over the glans and down his shaft. My own cock hardens at the thought of what I'm doing. As my lips and tongue work strongly and smoothly to bring him to climax, I wonder if this is new to him too. He's a little unsteady on his feet and bracing his hands against the counter now. I grasp his thighs to steady him as he comes, crying out my name. Spurts of his come spatter the back of my throat and fill my mouth. Swallow? Of course I do.

We remain like a tableau for several minutes until he recovers. I'm hoping he'll throw me a bone here. Just a few kind words would do, but no. He's back on the power kick again.

"Jack, take my boots and socks off," he orders briskly. Copying me?

"What, and lick them?" I ask, feeling distinctly hacked off at his treatment.

"Not unless I say so, Jack, and that's 'Dr. Jackson' to you. I'm not taking any more of your lip - unless it's on my dick."

"Aw, cut me some slack here, Da— Dr. Jackson," I say, more in hope than expectation.

"And quit with the whining, Jack. You're beginning to annoy me," he scowls.

This is so not like Daniel. I begin to move into automaton mode like when I was in Iraq. My mind switches off. It cannot handle this. On auto pilot, I remove his boots and peel off his socks. He kicks of his lower garments.

"Now strip - trollop!" he commands.

Mechanically I remove each garment. Finally I slide the Frenchies down to my thighs and let gravity take them. Daniel seems satisfied - or not.

"Ok, take yourself off into the bedroom - baggage - and wait for me on the bed," he growls, "and don't touch yourself!"

I'm beginning to lose it here. It's like he's giving me my heart's desire, but lacing it with cyanide. As in a dream, I begin to move. Suddenly I feel a sharp pain across my butt. I welcome it. I need the physical sensation to bring back from the un-world I'd stepped into.

"That's for not obeying orders quick enough - harlot!" he snaps.

I still seem to wandering through a dream world turned nightmare. I find myself in my bedroom and sit down on my bed. Bed, Daniel. Daniel, bed. Bed, sleep, dream, Daniel... Sweet Daniel, fuck me... He is near me. I am aroused. I cannot help it. Oh dear God, help me.

I'm aware that Daniel is here, here in my bedroom. Daniel, the object of my desire. Daniel, my lover. Daniel, my abuser. Daniel the defiler. He's going through my drawers now, looking for something. I no longer care.

He returns and binds something round my eyes so I cannot see my tormentor. He ties something round my wrists and fastens them above my head. I feel the cold metal bars of my bedhead, my prison. I feel the bed sag under his weight.

He shuffles towards me, lifting my buttocks on to his thighs. My legs rest on his shoulders, then there is silence.

Nothing.

For what seems an age.

Then something very gently touches my asshole. The shock nearly sends me through the roof!

After that, I feel something - Danny's finger? - sliding gently around the rim. It's both stimulating and relaxing. I'm not surprised now when his fingers carefully prepsre me. I find I'm hardly daring to breathe.

He stops and shifts around a little. Something else - Danny's cock, I'm thinking - replaces his fingers on my asshole and slowly pushes inside.

Oh god! the sensation makes me shiver and my muscles contract a little. He gasps and stops moving. It seems like time's standing still. Then he moves again, inexorably, filling me by slow degrees. Eventually, his ball sac makes contact with my butt. He stops - again.

Sweet Jesus, why?! I can't stand it any longer.

"Oh, for God's sake, Danny, do it!" I cry. "Don't keep me hanging on!"

It galvanizes him, and he surges into action, ramming his length into me like the fate of the world depends on it, harder and faster and faster and harder. I feel his orgasm build. As he comes, he lets out a wild, carnal scream and I am its source.

The animal passion calls an answering response from me. As he collapses on my cock, I come, spilling my seed between us.

I just lie there exhausted. I should feel happy, at rest. My dream has come true. Sort of. But I feel nothing. It's not as it should have been.

Daniel lies on top of me for an age, then without a word, he drags himself off me and off the bed. I hear his footsteps padding towards the bathroom and sound of my shower. Silence for a while and then the footsteps return.

"You look a real mess, Jack," he says callously as he unties the knots at my wrists. "Go shower, then come back here."

More? He wants more, I wonder, as I drag the blindfold of my eyes. It's getting dark outside, but the light still makes me blink. I walk slowly and dejectedly into my bathroom and step into the shower.

I wash every part of me, as if to wash away the memory. It takes time. The water starts running cold, but it doesn't matter. It's not as cold as I feel inside. A snatch of song keeps running through my head:

'I hang my head and I advertise
A soul for sale or rent,
I have no heart, I am cold inside,
I have no real intent.

Save me, save me, save me,
I can't face this life alone.
Save me, save me, save me,
I'm naked and I'm far from home...'

At least it feels that way. I finish showering. I have to go back sometime, but I feel so low— so alone. I retrace my steps then find bare feet and legs in my way. I stop.

"Jack," Daniel says, so softly and gently, "look at me..."

Reluctantly, I raise my eyes to his face, and see the most beautiful, tender smile. The warmth is back, lighting up his eyes like the windows of heaven.

"Daniel?" I begin, hardly daring to believe this isn't just another trick.

"Yes, Jack...?" he responds lovingly

"You...? ~ he's just put me through hell ~

"You... ~ The Iraqis had nothing on him ~

"You... ~ and now he's carrying on like it never happened ~

"you bastard!!"

And he's just standing there, all innocent, like he's no idea what he's just put me through! He pulls my arms around his neck and wraps his own round my waist, pulling me gently towards him.

"Oh God, Daniel!" I whisper. I can hardly keep my voice from cracking up altogether. "I thought... I thought you were just using me... that you despised me, hated me even."

"Oh no, Jack, never that," he replies, as if the thought never crossed his mind. He gently massages my back. It's soothing, reducing me to jelly.

"Then why, Danny, why?" I beg.

"Because... because I love you, Jack," he murmurs in my ear, "but I can't love in a vacuum. You're not the most demonstrative guy in the world when it comes to feelings. I figured, if you knew what it felt like to be... frozen out, then maybe you wouldn't do it to me any more. I mean, if you love me, say it. Say it often. I need to know."

"Of course I love you Daniel!" I bark in exasperation, just managing not to call him all kinds of idiot.

"Not like that, Jack, say it like you care," he demurs.

"Oh Daniel," I say with as much tenderness as a hard-bitten U.S.A.F. colonel can muster, "I love you with all my heart."

The first thing I do after we kiss is to go back in the kitchen, bundle up my clothes and the wig - and the mules - and junk them in the trash. I don't ever want to go through an experience like that again. Well ok, I do, but not quite like that. Besides, now I have him, I really don't need them any more.

I grab a couple of beers, then put one back, remembering that Danny doesn't care for beer over much. I put the kettle on instead and hope he doesn't mind instant coffee. I smile. It's going to be interesting, finding out about all his likes and dislikes.

Daniel wanders through, half-dressed, to collect the rest of his gear. He pats me on my rump.

"I see you've still got my mark on you, Jack," he says, "Sorry about that."

"Liar," I say, "Besides, it did me good."

He looks adorably puzzled.

"Yeah. I was slipping into that dark place where I really don't want to go. That slap brought me back to the real world, even if it wasn't a very pleasant one at that point."

"Oh. Now that, I am sorry for, truly, and I'll make it up to you, Jack."

"Oh, yeah, you are so gonna to pay for it, Dr. Jackson! But not right now. First, we need to talk."

I hand him his coffee and send him into the lounge, while I go slip on a tracksuit.

"Now, Daniel, I can quite see the temptation to take advantage of me somehow when you caught me like that, but whatever made you think I'd let you get away with it? I mean, anyone else - anyone else at all - and you'd be trussed up on the floor of my kitchen right now, nursing a very sore head and several other places."

"Erm, well, I've been watching you for a long time, Jack," he says, "—watching you watching me. You may be Special Ops trained, but when it's a friend you're watching, I'd kind of expect you to acknowledge that friend's presence in passing - a nod of the head or a smile - before you look away. That would have been a far more natural thing to do. And when I wiggled my butt..."

"You were doing that on purpose?" I exclaim.

"Well yes, I wanted to see your reaction," he grins impishly.

"You really are a bastard, Daniel. I didn't know where to look when you did that."

"Mostly up at the sky," he chuckles, "and then tightened your grip on your P-90."

I laugh. "So what are we going to do now?" I ask.

"You need to ask?" he smiles, oh so seductively.

"I mean, about us. We can't go around all starry-eyed at S.G.C.— unless you want me to resign?"

"Hell no! Now that I know you're mine and we can make out in our down time, it shouldn't be quite so much of a strain being fully professional at work. And at home— we keep the door locked!"

Then there was that other thing I just had to mention...

"Trollop? Baggage? Harlot?! More of your linguistic skills, I presume, Doctor Jackson?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry," he says. He's looking a tad guilty, but I'm not fooled.

"That's ok, I like it when you talk foreign."

"Salope! Tu baises vachement bien Jaques O'Neill, mon amour."

"Oh? Et tu, mon âme"

"What? You understood?!"

That surprises him which makes me feel very smug.

"Vraiment! You may be wa-ay smarter than I am, Daniel Jackson, but despite what they say about military intelligence, I didn't make it to colonel by being totally ignorant, ya know. Maintenant - tire ton cul dans ma chambre pour une sacrée bonne baise..."

"Ooh Jack," he says coyly, "I love it when you talk dirty."

Fizz... Ting!