"You're going dressed like that?"
Daniel glances down in confusion ... "What's wrong with how I'm dressed, Jack? It's only a Sunday barbecue at Janet's house."
Daniel may be the smartest person I know, Daniel may be my lover, Daniel may have opened the secrets of the Stargate ... but damn ... Daniel has no fashion sense. I push past him, entering his apartment, closing the door behind me. "Daniel ... you look like you are going on a job interview or to meet some girl's parents ..."
"Semantics, Daniel ... doesn't the word relax ... casual mean anything to you?"
I can see by his downtrodden expression, I've hurt my linguist's feelings. With a sigh, I grab his hand and pull him into the bedroom. I position him in front of his closet, and make myself comfortable on the bed. Head and upper back propped up by strategically placed pillows against the headboard, I wave my hand in his direction. "Begin."
"Ah ... Jack. Begin what?"
Did I mention that besides the no fashion sense thing, Daniel sometimes is so totally clueless, it's frightening. "Daniel ... you are not wearing that to Fraiser's house. Let's try for a different look."
"The shirt ... I like the shirt ..."
"Daniel ... off with the plaid."
Daniel unbuttons the shirt ... and throws it to the floor. Did I also forget to mention ... that clothes mean nothing to Daniel ... hence the piles all over his room. His back towards me, Daniel slides hangers back and forth within the closet. He takes a shirt off the hanger and buttons it ... his back still towards me, as he tucks it in.
"Let's see Daniel ..." Looks the same as the plaid one, which now holds a place of honor on the top of the pile by the bedroom door. "Okay, it's solid ... that's a plus. It's blue ... even better. Roll up the sleeves."
Whoa ... I'm impressed ... Daniel is doing what I ask him. He looks up ... I can see from where I am ... how blue his eyes are in that shirt. "Take off the pants ..."
"Pants off now. That's an order."
"Jack, I'm a civilian and I don't have to ..."
He unbuttons his pants ... and slides them down over his ass, his thighs ... his slim ... this is getting to be quite a turn on. He starts a new pile, as he throws his pant into the corner of the room. Shirttails hanging over his boxers, he pulls out another pair of pants and puts them on. He stands in front of me, arms spread.
"Preppy ... too preppy. Looks like you are going for the college rowing team look."
"Gimme a hint ... shirt, pants ..."
"Both," I reply haughtily from the throne bed. My heart begins to pound and I lick surprisingly dry lips as I survey Daniel. Except for his boxers ... I am treated to one of the seven wonders of the world. Long lean legs, tight ass, broad shoulders ... I know what is under those boxers ... "Daniel," my voice cracks as I say his name. I clear my throat ... and close my eyes. Hopefully when I open them, either Daniel will be dressed or my sudden and painful erection will disappear. I grab a pillow from behind my head ... and position it nonchalantly over my groin.
Daniel tries on at least five or more outfits on, my erection appears and disappears contingent upon his state of undress. Throughout this fashion show ... I keep the pillow on my lap for safekeeping. The piles in his room grow with discarded articles of clothing. He keeps the boxers on. Always the boxers ... I again close my eyes as I concentrate very hard to send Daniel mental images to go commando for his next outfit.
"Except for pajamas Jack ... I can't get any more casual than this." My erection now strains not only against my jeans, but I swear, the pillow just moved. I groan inwardly as I take in the sight before me. Regulation black tee shirt ... must've seen those on Daniel thousands of time. This one though, appears to have gone through the dry cycle one time too many. Tight in all the right places ... across his chest, his upper arms ... Daniel's back. But the piece de resistance ... those jeans. I have never seen those on Daniel before.
"Daniel?" Surprised my voice still works. Surprised there are coherent thought process taking place in my brain. All my blood seems pooled in my groin area.
"Surprised they still fit. From a dig in Egypt, I believe, buried far in the back of my closet ... must've been years since I saw them ... forgot I even owned a pair of jeans."
The jeans in question, hug Daniel like they are second skin. Worn through at the knees, the rear of these pants have almost a see through look. With a growl, I jump off the bed, grab Daniel's denim ass, and pull him towards me. "Where have you been hiding these ..." I kiss his neck, unbutton the pants, pull the tee shirt up ...
Daniel's whimpers when I open the pants enough to gain access to his penis. He grips the back of my head, and pulls our lips together in a fevered frenzy.
"Casual, Jack." He moans, as I detach my lips from his ... and begin a trail of kisses down his throat.
"Don't do casual, Daniel ..."
Daniel is making soft satiated moaning noises, as he lies on the bed sans clothing. Finally the boxers are off, strewn somewhere in the room. The revered jeans and tee shirt have been folded and placed lovingly over a chair. I kiss Daniel's sweat drenched chest as he moans in pleasure. He pulls me in for a kiss, his tongue searching out mine. We are going for round two, when the telephone rings.
He throws himself back with a loud exhale, I answer the phone, Daniel answers my erect penis. No one would question why I answer Daniel's phone ... hopefully no one would really care. The penis thing may raise a few eyebrows though.
Daniel stops touching me at the sound of Carter's name. I place my hand over the receiver, so she cannot hear us. "Daniel ... you don't have to stop handling the merchandise ... Carter can't see us." Did I happen to mention how much of Daniel's body turns red when he blushes? I resume the conversation with Carter.
"You're late, Sir. We are kinda holding dinner for you and Daniel."
"I apologize Carter. Actually Daniel wants to apologize ... Daniel truly had a problem with what to wear to the barbecue and I was just helping him decide."
Okay, I'll admit it when Jack commented on what I was wearing, I was a little hurt. Clothing is just something to cover me ... keep me cool in the summer ... warm in the winter. I find it hard to even remember the correct color of the BDU's I should be wearing on a mission.
Jack seems to think 'clothes make the man.' I do have to admit that when I opened the door and saw him standing there in shades, those pants and that leather jacket, I gave a special prayer to the maker of the baggy pants I was wearing. At least baggy hides a multitude of sins. Sins such as erections that spring up on unsuspecting linguists when their lovers appear dressed in clothes that bring illicit thoughts to said linguist's mind in all 26 languages.
So here I am standing in front of my closet, Jack stretched out on my bed, and the proverbial light bulb has just gone on over my head. I know where Jack is going with this ... and I am so going to enjoy jerking his chain.
From his command post, he orders me to change shirts. To make Jack believe he has the upper hand, I do a little protest of sorts ... and then acquiesce. My back is facing Jack, so he is not privy to the evil little smile that is on my face. I make a charade of moving around the hangers in my closet, but I know the shirt I am going for. The one Cassie bought me because it "brought out the blue in my eyes." I tuck it in and slowly turn towards Jack. The sight of him stretched out on my bed, pillows behind his head ... I swallow ... and will the blood flow in my body to resume.
I blink in surprise as he orders me to "take off my pants." I slowly, and I hope what can be construed as seductively, begin to slide out of my pants ... that strip tease song starts to play in my mind and I have visions of me shaking my ass and swinging my pants over my head. Five feet away ... he is laying not five feet away on my bed, watching me get undressed. Five feet away, stretched out with those long legs encased in those tight dark jeans ... and that sweater ... I commence praying that my boxers can hide my growing erection.
Okay ... now he is asking for a complete change of clothes. I chuckle to myself, taking in the pillow placed right where ... oh, Jack ... you are so going to pay for this.
I am going to make my Colonel suffer. I watch him shift uncomfortably as I slide in and out of pants, in and out of shirts. Buttons, zipping, snapping. This has come back to bite me in the ass, when I realize I am suffering just as much as he is. He eyes my boxers ... I eye the pillow ... this little show better end soon ... before I have an orgasm just knowing that he is watching me dress and undress.
Leather or jeans ... leather or jeans. Well, if one doesn't work ... the other one will. I opt for the jeans, the leather pants require me to actually lay down to zip them. Would kinda kill the mood. The black tee shirt is a given ... I slip it over my head and turn toward Jack, the evil grin flashing across my face as I see that he has closed his eyes in what I believe to be silent prayer. Pray all you want, oh Colonel of mine ... your ass will be mine in like ... 10, 9, 8, 7 ... well, hello there!
Pillow flying, Jack jumps off the bed, grabs my ass, and pulls me toward him. I offer myself silent congratulations on my choice of clothing. I think I'm actually whimpering as I feel his fingers make a connection with my long-suffering penis. I reciprocate by shoving my hands down the front of his pants and shoving my tongue down his throat.
He pushes me down on the bed ... and we become tangle of arms, legs, testosterone, and erections. I make out two sentence amidst our grunting and groaning ... Jack telling me to be 'careful of your pants, I really like those' and to 'lose the fuckin' boxers, Daniel.'
Oh ... I drift into reality, opening my eyes ... observing what a mess the bedroom is from my little strip tease. I give Jack a moan of appreciation and he rewards me by kissing my neck, down to my still heaving chest. I pull him towards me ... losing myself in this kiss. I feel Jack's erection against my leg and I move to ... shit answer the phone.
Jack picks up the phone ... I pick up right where I had left off with tiny strokes ... Carter? I drop the penis down like a hot potato ... much to Jack's chagrin and am reprimanded for not touching the merchandise.
Shit ... Janet's house. We're late ... I look at the clock ... we are very late. Jack hangs up the phone ... "Get dressed Daniel. Time to put the clothes back on." I reach for the jeans folded neatly on the chair next to the bed. "Not those ... save those ... for me. Why don't you just go with the plaid instead?"
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