Waiting for Pie

by The Grrrl

Title: Waiting for Pie

Author: The Grrrl

Author's email: thegrrrl2002@gmail.com

Author's URL: http://thegrrrl2002.slashcity.org/

Archive: Ask first.

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jack/Daniel

Synopsis: Daniel bakes. Jack gets excited.

Notes: I've had pie on my mind ever since reading Seanchaidh's lovely genfic "Pie in the Sky", and this is the result. Absolutely no plot whatsoever, just sappy smut. A great big thank you goes to my ever-valiant beta, Kylie Lee, who, among other things, makes sure that I actually have commas in my fics. (Did I do that right?)

I've lapsed into surfing the 'net the aimlessly when at last I hear a key in the front door. I shut the computer down and hurry to the door, but then slow to a casual walk just before Jack bursts through. He looks utterly disgusted.

"Hi, honey, you're home," I greet him.

He throws down his bag, grabs his short hair in his fists, and growls, "Arrrggghhh!"

"Did you have a good visit to the Pentagon, dear?" I ask innocently, helping him off with his jacket.

He scowls at me. "Allow me to repeat myself: 'Arrrrggghh.'"

I nod, trying not to smile. He is so not a politician. I can't take my eyes off him. His silver hair is standing up in little tufts, and he's wearing a soft, blue knit shirt that clings to his shoulders. He looks wonderful. Irresistible. And completely, utterly, frazzled.

I nod, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "So how did the summit meeting go?"

He thinks for a moment. "I didn't kill anybody," he answers brightly.

"Good," I say, "that's very good, Jack. And did you give Senator McKinsey a great big kiss for me, like I asked?"

"Of course," he answers, as the corner of his mouth quirks. "With tongue."

"I'll bet he liked that."

"Oh yeah. I've got a date with him next time I'm town." He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close.

"Should I be jealous?" I ask, pressing my fingers against the back of his neck, kneading tight muscles just at the base of his skull. "Jeeze, Jack, you're all knotted up."

He closes his eyes as he leans back into my touch. "So, have I ever told you how much I love traveling on commercial airlines?" he asks.

"I, um, let's see, you may have mentioned it once or twice." His hands have worked their way beneath my T-shirt, his fingers warm and friendly against the small of my back.

"Oh. Okay. How about that thing about the seats being designed for midgets?" he continues.

I move my fingers further down the back of his neck, and he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, exposing a surprisingly vulnerable throat. "Really, Jack?" I say, my eyes wide. "I had no idea." I give in to temptation and brush my lips along his throat.

"They're really not very comfortable." He sighs, twisting his neck around a little, and I work on his left side, where he always gets that little crick.

"You poor thing."

"And have I mentioned how much I just love going to Washington?" his voice is gentler now though, losing the hard edge.

"You do, don't you?" I murmur as I lay kisses along his jaw.

"Absolutely." His lips capture mine and he kisses me thoroughly. "I'm glad you're here, Danny," he says softly.

I shrug. "Just as easy for me to wait here for you."

He sniffs just then, his brow furrowing. "What is that?" He looks at me, but I merely shrug, blinking at him.

"What's what?" I respond innocently.

"That smell. It smells like—smells like—"

And he's off, heading toward the kitchen.

I follow him in and watch as he approaches the oven, looks at it, then opens it. When he straightens up, he appears astonished. "Pie?" he asks. "You made pie? For me?" He couldn't have been more amazed if I had conjured up a genie to grant him three wishes.

"No, Jack. I baked a pie, period," I tell him, folding my arms against my chest. "And, if you're good, maybe I'll let you have a piece."

"You made me a pie," he says, grinning. His face is transformed, the hard line of his brow softened, his dark eyes glowing.

He's also being utterly charming. "No," I repeat. "I simply baked a pie. Because the market had big bags of ripe peaches on sale, and I needed to do something with them." I didn't mention the fact that I also needed something to do with myself, because five days of Jack away in Washington seemed to mysteriously leave me without anything to occupy my free time. This morning I was desperately wandering around town, restless and at loose ends, until I found myself standing in the farmer's market, captivated in by a basket of peaches.

"Peach pie? You made me a peach pie? You know that's my favorite," he accuses. "C'mere, peach-breath." He pulls me into a hug.

Okay, so I ate a fair number of peaches while preparing the pie.

Jack kisses me again, pushing me up against the counter, and I cling to him, kissing him back eagerly. I let his tongue slide between my lips as he tastes me, his mouth raw and hungry. I run my hands along his hard, bony shoulders, enjoying the sensation of his body pressed up against mine. This is what I've been waiting for.

"Mmmm," he whispers into my ear, "You're a peach, Daniel. A big, sweet, juicy—"

I cut him off with another kiss, a sloppy one this time because I'm beginning to laugh. I love that Jack can be endearingly silly, something I had never realized until we became lovers. I also had no idea that such a sarcastic mouth could kiss so sweetly.

The timer rings while we are kissing, and we both jump. Jack immediately asks, "Is it ready? Can I have some now?"

I frown at the timer, ironically feeling rather irked by its timing. I shoo Jack away and open the oven door, blinking at the wave of heat as I slide the rack out and examine my pie carefully. I have absolutely no idea if it's done. I've never baked a pie in my life, but with the help of frozen, prepared pie crusts and the Internet, I've at least gotten this far. The crust actually looks pretty good, lightly browned and puffy, and peach goo is bubbling up around the lattice. It smells delicious, redolent of nutmeg and cinnamon. I grab the pot holders and remove it carefully, setting it on the stove.

"Well?" Jack asks.

"It's done. But we have to, uh, wait for it to cool before we can eat it."

He's hovering right behind me, watching, as I turn the oven off. "What? Wait? Won't ice cream cool it down fast enough? I'm sure I have some ice cream, unless you scarfed it all down while I was gone."

"No, I didn't eat all the ice cream, and no, it's too hot, it has to cool, um—so it can set," I tell him over my shoulder as I toss the pot holders down. He's in my way, and I have bump him back with my hip just so I can shut the oven door. "You just have to wait." I feel as though I'm talking to a small child.

He wraps his arms around me from behind, pulling my back against his chest, reminding me that this is no small child, but a big, solid, very insistent colonel. "Wait, huh?" His hands find their way under my shirt and onto my stomach, the material of his sweater soft and silky against my skin. "I have to wait?"

"Yes, Jack. Waiting. You do know how to wait, don't you?" I stroke his forearms encouragingly, leaning back against his broad chest. This is much better. If I had known he'd be so distracted by the damn pie I would never had made it.

Jack's hands slide up my chest. "Danny, believe me, I know all about waiting," he breathes into my ear.

And it's true. Because, unbeknownst to me, Jack waited for years. Patiently. He waited while I searched for Sha'ure. And after her death, waited for me as I mourned her loss. Then still he waited—waited until he thought I might be ready to hear what he had to say. He waited to for the right moment to admit to me that he was in love with me. And when he did, his quiet confession, so uncharacteristically shy and tentative, had stunned me, rocked me to my core. The only response I could think of was to kiss him. Which I did, with my usual lack of finesse. I flung myself at him and kissed the hell out of him. Kissed him so hard our teeth clashed and his head bumped against the wall. If that bothered him any, he didn't stop to mention it during the ensuing chaos. And afterward, as we lay naked on his wrecked bed, breathless, sweaty, and more than a little sticky, Jack had simply quirked his brow and asked, "So, ah, does this mean you're okay with the love thing?"

I'm smiling at the memory of our first night together, nearly six months ago, and turn my head to rub my cheek against his face. "Yes, you do, don't you. You waited a good long time for me."

"Ah, it was nothin'," Jack says, with false nonchalance.

But I knew the truth. Jack doesn't give his heart away easily. He watched and waited, then took a huge risk with me, and I'm still amazed by his courage. "Sure, Jack," I sigh, distracted by his hands on my stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of my jeans. It's getting warm in here, and I don't think it's from the oven.

"Jack," I sigh. It's so good to have him back, touching me again. Sometimes I wonder how I ever lived without his touch, how I ever made it through those empty years. I had been with men before, long ago, but it had never been like this. And it hadn't been like this with women, not even with Sha'ure, even though I loved her fiercely. When Jack touches me, the world ceases to exist. "Please," I say, pushing my ass back against his groin, feeling the enticing hardness there.

I attempt to turn to face him but he clamps his arms around my waist and chest. He chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back. "Going somewhere?"

I groan helplessly. His hands get busy, and next thing I know my pants are unzipped and rough fingers slip under my briefs. He toys with my pubic hair, and I wriggle about, trying to get his hands just where I want them.

"Daniel," he croons, moving his hands to my thighs, pushing my pants and briefs further down, "you're gonna just have to learn to wait."

I reach behind me and grab hold of his hips. "Ass," I accuse.

"No," Jack says patiently, "hips. Those are my hips."

"Please," I say again. I ache for him.

"Please what?"

"Touch me."

I feel his breath gusting on my neck as he laughs. "I am touching you."

"I hate you," I tell him, entirely without rancor.

"Is that why you baked me a pie?" he asks, still stroking my thighs. My pants slip some more, and now I can't even rub myself against them. My cock is throbbing, but when I reach for it he clasps my hands in his, stopping me. "Uh-uh."

"You are so not getting any pie," I growl.

"Oh, I'll get plenty of pie," he says, in a wonderfully dirty tone of voice. And then he touches me, his fingers dancing along my shaft. "Plenty of sweet, delicious—" His hand wraps around my cock at last and I push into his hand. He rubs me in all the right spots, then lets me thrust into his fist. I grunt happily, pleasure flooding my body, as my head lolls back onto his shoulder. I struggle to push my sagging pants down the rest of the way, and then I'm feeling Jack's pants and his belt buckle against my naked ass. It feels so wicked, to be standing in Jack's ordinary little kitchen in this ordinary little suburb, with my pants and underwear pooled around my ankles. Jack's hand on my dick. My hand hovers above his, my fingers caressing his knuckles as he strokes me. His other hand is cupping my chest now, first rubbing one nipple, then the other, and all the while a wet, warm tongue is licking my ear. I turn my head so he licks my cheek, then pauses to take off my glasses and toss them onto the counter.

I'm groaning, lost in a sea of erotic sensation, lost in Jack. I close my eyes, then reopen one briefly to make sure the shade in the window over the kitchen sink is drawn.

Jack's body undulates gently against mine, the swell of his erection pressing against my ass. Reaching behind, I tug at the button on his pants. I want him, want him to take me right here.

"Hey now," Jack teases. "What did I say about waiting?" But he helps me, and in a moment his pants are down, too. He holds me around the waist and pulls me hard up against him, his cock now nestled between the cheeks of my ass.

"Oh," I say, grinding myself against it. I can feel his pubic hair tickling, and his soft, sensitive balls swaying against my skin, his hard, thighs pressed into the back of mine. It's all Jack, Jack all around me. Propping my hands against the countertop I force my self back against him. "Do it, Jack," I gasp. I want him to fuck me, fuck me raw, until I can't even remember my own name.

"Danny, Danny," he whispers, nibbling my neck. I love the way his teeth feel against my skin. I want him to devour me whole.

He reaches under my shirt and pinches my nipple, hard, and I yelp with surprise. "Again," I beg, and he complies. My dick throbs with need; my entire body aches for him. I shove hard against him, with a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter. The length of his shaft rubs against my anus; it feels dry and rough against the sensitive tissue and I like it.

"Christ, Daniel," he says, his breath huffing in my ear. "I just fucking love coming home to you." He holds me so tight I can't breathe, then his arms loosen, and he steps back, his cock slipping away from my ass.

I whimper in dismay. "What—Jack?" I can hear the frantic note in my voice—god, the things he can do to me.

He tells me, "Hold on," and reaches for the cabinet door. I open it for him, eagerly, because that's where he keeps—

"Olive or canola?" I demand.

"Olive," he says. "Extra virgin. Only the finest for your sweet little ass."

I grab the bottle with a shaky hand and uncap it; he takes it from my hand. He's going to do it, going to fuck me right here and now. The feeling is exhilarating. "Do it, do it," I chant in a hoarse whisper.

"Wait. Here." He pushes my shirt up my back, and I tuck it under my arms to keep it in place. "Bend over a little more," he instructs.

I lean over the counter, resting my forearms on the cool surface, thrusting my ass up. His hand cups my rump, caressing it, and I feel his warm lips pressing kisses along my spine. He so tender, so loving, and I can't believe my good fortune to have this, to have Jack.

"Hold still," he tells me, and a second later, I feel a drizzle of cool oil, oozing down between my cheeks. He catches it with his fingers, rubbing it all around, and I struggle to remain unmoving. More oil, and soon I'm quite slick. The sensation is breathtaking as he circles his gentle fingers around my opening. The oil trickles down, dripping onto my balls. And still, he's not inside me yet, he's just working around the outside.

"C'mon, Jack," I groan, trying move against his fingers. "Jack—" I complain.

"Now what did I say about waiting?" Jack sing-songs to me.

"Jack," I growl between clenched teeth.

He penetrates me, at last, just one finger, but it's so good, reaching far inside of me. Another finger, and I feel tighter, stretched. He drips on more oil, getting me nice and lubricated as he twists and strokes his fingers all around. I can hear him panting behind me, moaning a little as I squeeze my muscles. "Damn," he says, "you've got one real sweet peach of an ass, you know that?"

He continues preparing me, taking far too long, but at last he slips his fingers out of me. I twist around to see him pouring oil onto his palm, and then slicking up his cock. I love watching him touch himself with those marvelous hands. He has a beautiful ruddy cock, long and lean, just like the rest of him. He glances over and when he sees that I'm watching, he flashes me that sweet little smile. He leans forward and kisses me, his mouth warm and hungry on mine. Then I take the bottle of oil from him and pointedly wiggle my butt. He chuckles, a low rumble deep in his throat, then positions himself directly behind me and slides his slick cock between my cheeks.

"Oh, yeah," he moans, "just peachy."

Then he's inside of me, easing his way in, penetrating me. I groan with relief, god, this what I have been yearning for. He fills me up completely, my Jack.

When he's buried deep inside of me, he pulls me up straight, hands under my shirt again, holding me snug against his body. He's kissing my neck, and it's like we were before, only now he's part of me, his throbbing cock is inside my body. I rub my stomach, imagining I can feel him inside of me.

"Oh, Jack," I pant. "This is so good."

Jack takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Oh, yeah. Good. Real good."

I circle my hips, working him in even deeper. He slides his arm around my waist, holding me, and I hold his arm and it's just incredible, that aching, throbbing pleasure, growing, sweeping me away.

My hands move down my stomach to my cock, and I touch myself. "Oh—"

Jack firmly removes my hand. "No, Danny," he says, lips moving against my hair. "Not yet." He holds my hand and slides it up over my sweat-slicked chest to my nipples.

"Here, touch," he says, and I do, rolling the nub of skin between my fingers. My body shakes against his, and I pinch my nipple. A sharp burst of white-hot pleasure knifes through my body, right down through my cock. I need to come, I'm aching so much—doesn't Jack realize—he must—

"Please, please, Jack—" I nearly sob.

"Wait for it," he croons. "Wait for it, sweetheart."

Oh god. I want to, but I can't, I have to come. Now. I moan wordlessly, I can't speak, I can only want, and need, and ache. My hands seek my cock again but Jack grabs them, placing them on the counter. "Wait," he insists, his voice a breathless whisper. "Wait for it."

I cling to his voice as his hands grasp onto my hips and finally, finally, he's pulling away from me and then plunging his cock into me. He thrusts over and over again, both of us grunting, panting. It's so fucking fabulous, I can hardly stand it. My body goes weak, my knees buckle. I fall forward, my sweaty hands slipping on the counter, knocking over a cup, sending the oil bottle skittering against the backdrop. I drop onto my elbows, but Jack holds me, holds me up—takes me over—I can't stop whimpering, my body is his—oh god, he's touching me, stroking me—holy shit—I can't hold on—

I howl as my orgasm crashes through me, body convulsing in pleasure. Wave after wave soars through me, and I'm just gone, and I know Jack is too, the way he's crying out behind me, in my ear, because of the way my muscles are clamping down on him, gripping him, working his cock.

"God damn, Daniel—oh man, oh man—" he groans, straining against me, pumping me, throbbing deep within me. "Oooh, yeah," he says finally, slumping against my back.

We stay like that, me crushed up against the counter, Jack a heavy, panting weight against my back, one oiled hand holding my dick, the other, pressed against my chest, as the aftershocks flow through us. He's still inside of me, slowly growing soft. My muscles twitch a little, uncontrollably, and he makes a startled sound. "Sorry," I whisper, as his dick slides out of me.

He backs off a bit, and I can't help myself, I'm so boneless, so completely blissed out that I slip between Jack and the cabinets and slide down onto the floor. I hear Jack laugh, such a wonderful sound, and he eases himself down next to me. He hugs me tight, he wipes his hand on my T-shirt, and laughs again because I don't even raise a fuss. I just sigh and lean into him. "Mmmm," I tell him. My body still tingles with pleasure.

"Jeeze, Daniel, I tell you," he says with wonder in his voice, "you make me feel like the biggest damn stud in the universe." He kisses my face.

"Mmmm." I say in agreement and burrow in closer to him, tucking my head against his neck. Jack chuckles again, a rich, velvety sound. He is the biggest stud in the universe.

We cuddle for a time. I'm floating happily along in my dreamy postcoital daze, but eventually he starts to fidget. "Danny, darling, gettin' a little uncomfortable here. Hard floor. Cabinets—knobs—you know?" He nudges me with his nose. "Don't tell me you're actually sleeping."

"Mmmm." I blink. I wasn't sleeping. Sort of. We untangle ourselves. Jack stands up first, then pulls me to my feet.

Bracing myself against the counter I smile as I watch Jack tuck himself in, zip his pants, and button. He's just so amazingly beautiful. Especially after sex—his face gentle, his eyes content and full of love. For me. He catches me looking, and smiles right back at me, shaking his head.

"Daniel—you're still—c'mere—"


He comes to me, looks me over, reaches down and pulls my briefs up over my hips. My smile broadens. He kisses my nose, then bends down for my pants, pulls them up and fastens them. I kiss him this time, and as I go in for a full body hug he plants a hand on my chest, stopping me.

"Hold it." He takes my come-smeared shirt and pulls it off over my head.

"Oh," I say. Now I can hug him, and I do. "Jack," I murmur, and then kiss him again.

"Daniel," he says to me, his big, capable hands rubbing my back. It feels nice. Really nice. "The pie—I'll bet it's cooled off enough."

Pie? What pie? I look around the kitchen, and there it is, a nice little pie sitting right there on the stove. "Oh," I say again.

Jack takes my head in his hands, looks me in the eye, and says, "Why don't you go settle in on the couch, and I'll bring you some, okay?"

This sounds like a grand idea, so I nod. "Okay."

Jack grins at me again, and I'm struck again by how lovely he is, and how much I love him. He's lovely and he's taking off his sweater—oh—he's putting it over my head, and now I'm wearing his sweater. It's warm and smells just like him, so I smile happily back at him. "There," he says. He seems highly amused for some reason as he pulls and straightens the shirt around my body.

In his T-shirt now, he looks around on the counter, then picks up my glasses and slides them gently onto my face. "Can you make it to the couch by yourself?" he teases.

"Smartass," I say. But I'm still smiling.

I find my way to the couch just fine, and settle into to it, leaning back, resting my feet on the coffee table. I close my eyes, just for a minute, because I'm still feeling it—feeling languid and content and loved.

I open my eyes when I feel Jack settling in next to me, pressing right up against my body. I see that he has only one plate, with a huge slab of pie on it. But before I complain he scoops up a forkful and feeds it to me.

It's delicious.

"Good, huh?" Jack asks.

I nod. "Mmmm."

"I had no idea you had such talents, Danny-boy."

"Me neither." I say. He presents another forkful to me, but before eating it I ask, "Worth waiting for?"

He smiles warmly. "Well worth waiting for." He shovels the pie into my waiting mouth. "Definitely worth waiting for. So tasty." He nuzzles my ear. "So delicious. Sweet. Succulent."

I'm laughing again. "Welcome back," I tell him, when I finally manage to swallow. "I missed you."

"Missed you, too, Danny." He gives me a big sweet, slightly sticky kiss.

We finish the slice of pie together, lounging on the couch, content, with our legs stretched out on coffee table, our feet rubbing together.

And we're feeling just peachy.

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