<<Previous  | Story Intro | Return to Stories | Next >>

I Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

Chapter 5

When the briefing was over, Casey walked to the women's locker room with Sam. Her arms were around her narrow waist, her head down, her lower lip between her teeth.

"Casey?" Sam asked softly.  "Is something wrong?"

"I guess I'm a bit nervous," she admitted, her voice soft.

"About what?"

"Being alone with him."

Sam's heart fell. If Casey remembered any of the brutal torture she'd suffered, it would affect her, and Daniel, for weeks...months...to come. They'd suffered so much in the ten months they'd been together. This just isn't fair! she complained to the universe in general. "Why?"

One slender shoulder moved up, then back down. "As long as we're here, he has an excuse for not touching me," Casey whispered. Sitting in the briefing room, she'd been able to convince herself that all was well. Now, knowing that within a matter of minutes she'd be alone with Daniel, thoughts of his reaction to her kiss in his office...or rather, lack thereof...pushed forward in her mind, and she was terrified that her deepest fears would be proven out.

"Casey, when we left the isolation room earlier today, we knew that you were going to be all right. Daniel wasn't doing anything...forward. But he was touching you, well, just your hip; you were responding, and he was hard as a rock. He tried to hide it, but..."

She couldn't help but giggle. "Not easy to hide the anaconda when it's demanding attention."

Sam giggled as well. "Very true. But I think it proves that there isn't anything...bothering him. He loves you, girlfriend, and he wants you as much as he ever has. On every level."

She thought about what Sam had said. If he'd been aroused, then he couldn't be repulsed, could he? "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

She pulled on the jeans and sweater she'd been wearing when they'd arrived at the SGC two weeks ago. The jeans with the grass stained knees. Frowned slightly. Yeah, that should be a real turn-on, she thought grumpily. Dirty jeans and a sweater that had been stretched out of shape ages ago!




He couldn't get into his street clothes fast enough. The sooner he got out of here, took her away from here, the sooner he could hold her, prove how much he loved her, needed her. If her actions in his office before the meeting were anything to go by, she was most definitely willing to make love!

Jack grinned over at him. "A bit anxious to get home, Danny?"

"Not really." He grinned inwardly at the older man's frown. Getting home would be fine. After a stop on that mountain road he'd found a couple of years ago. He'd taken her there a few weeks prior to this latest mission from hell.  From one of the turnouts they'd been able to sit and look out over the entire valley. It had been breathtaking. View had been pretty nice, too.

"Oh, I just thought..." Jack shook his head. "Sorry. I guess I thought you'd be in a hurry to get Casey home...reclaim what belongs to you."

He stopped with his shirt halfway up his arms...frowned, then pulled the flannel over his shoulders, buttoned it slowly. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

The gray haired man shrugged. "It'd be what I'd need. I mean, you were the only man she ever went to bed with. Not that what happened to her can be compared to...well, hell," he mumbled.

Funny, Casey had mentioned the same thing. Okay, Casey had been shouting...half of the damned base had probably heard by now. His frown matched that of his friend. He hadn't stopped to consider that maybe, for her as well as for himself, he did need to 'reclaim' her.

"Don't pay any attention to me. I'm just shoving my foot in my mouth again," Jack said quietly.

"Actually, you might have hit on something," Daniel admitted softly. "Casey said...yelled actually...almost the same thing. She seems to think that what happened..." He dropped down onto the bench in front of the lockers. "I never really let myself think about it. I mean, I know she was raped. But I could...hide...everything that happened behind that word. Not...think...about what it means."

"As long as she doesn't remember, then there shouldn't be a problem, right?" Jack asked.

"That's the problem, Jack. She might not remember the details. But she remembers the feelings; the terror...the shame."

"Aw, hell!" Jack muttered. "So she's going to dredge up every imaginable scenario she can."


"From what I've read in the reports that have been filed, and...seen...the Goa'uld use rape as a form of punishment, or a way to get information. Just straight forward penetration. Sometimes anal as well as vaginal," Jack said slowly, the clinical description his way of dealing with his own bitter memories. "But there isn't anything else that's...required."

He closed his eyes. He hadn't been forced to witness the rape of any of the female SG team members. Jack had. When he and Sam had been down with injuries from a particularly grueling mission, Jack had led SG-10 on a mission while their own CO recuperated as well. Lieutenant Sally Tulle had been raped. In front of her teammates. The men had been chained to a wall, helpless to defend her, stop what was happening. It had damned near broken them all. It had taken weeks before any of the men could even talk about what had happened. Jack blamed himself to this day. Sally Tulle had recovered, although it had been a long road back for her. He thought about Casey in that castle, could still hear her screams of pain, of terror. Images of Jaffa on top of her, pumping in and out of her, two of them holding her between them...He shook his head, forced the hateful thoughts and images away. "It doesn't matter. I love her."

"I know you love her. But Danny, make sure there isn't anything lurking in your head...or heart. Don't add your own guilt, or anger, to what she's already got to deal with," Jack advised softly. He patted the young man's shoulder, grabbed his jacket and quietly left the locker room.

Daniel sat there for a few minutes. Examined exactly what he was feeling. Yep, definitely angry. A hell of a lot of anger. No, it was more like rage. She'd been taken from him, she'd been hurt, tortured; her body abused and filled with drugs that broke her mind, and her spirit. It was a minor miracle that none of that horror would remain in her memory; that her mind and her spirit were as healthy as her body once again. He'd make that damned Goa'uld pay. And those Jaffa, well, they were dead men, too. He didn't care that they'd been ordered to hurt her. If Teal'c could stand alone against a room full of Jaffa...as he had that day in that dungeon cell, before tossing a Staff Weapon to Jack...then a group of them could stand against one snake! He refused to consider the fact that in their minds, that snake was a god, and 'untouchable'. Undefeatable.

Fear. Maybe she wasn't all the way 'back', not yet. Maybe she wasn't ready to return to their life, at least, not the way it had been. Maybe it would take time before she was ready to let him into their bed again. What would he do if it took weeks...months...before she was ready...before she could return to the life that they'd enjoyed together prior to all of the hell she endured? What could he do? How much of a toll on him...on them...on their relationship, would that wait be?

Guilt. Did she blame him for not saving her, for not protecting her from that nightmare? She had every reason to...he was her Husband, but he was her teammate as well. He never should have let her out of his sight! As for rescuing her...well...he could only explain what had happened, hope that she'd understand. He should have been the one to climb that wall. He should have been the one to charge through that castle to find her. He should have been the one to return to the SGC with her in his arms. Add to that guilt the fact that a part of him was damned glad it had been Teal'c who rescued her, that he'd been spared from witnessing what would've been so damned hard to see...there was no doubt that he'd have been unable to wait to try to save her. He'd have run out of those shadows the second that the first Jaffa touched her...and they both would've been killed...yep, there was a lot of guilt for him to deal with.

Love. Oh, god so much love. She was everything to him, his entire world revolved around her. He was a linguist, knew twenty-six languages now, and still he couldn't find the words to describe...to explain...how much he loved her. What had happened to her hadn't...couldn't...diminish that love. It was no different than the beatings she'd suffered. There was no emotion, none at all connected to what those Jaffa had done to her. And as long as she didn't remember details, well, he could help her get over any residual feelings, help her deal with them.

Need. Yeah, lots of that. Even with the drug still in her system, she'd responded so sweetly, so shyly, her eyes betraying her own need, even if she hadn't completely comprehended what she was experiencing. He smiled. Those shy smiles had been so similar to the ones she'd bestowed upon him the night they'd first made love. Had stirred the feelings of love, and protectiveness, and possessiveness that always seemed to burn in him since meeting her. And had increased his need to such a degree that his entire body ached with it.

Gratitude. He'd be forever thankful that his friend...his best friend...had rescued his Wife, brought her home to him. He'd have to thank Teal'c again. The Jaffa's willingness to go after Casey, to bring her home, had spared him from nightmares he didn't think he'd be able to deal with. He'd be forever thankful that once again the sunshine of her love hadn't been taken away from him forever.

He finished pulling on his boots. Looking forward to a nice drive up the mountainside. And reclaiming the woman he loved with all that he was.




She was waiting in the corridor, sitting on the floor, staring at her hands. Jack had left almost ten minutes ago. He'd hugged her, told her that Daniel was almost dressed. She glanced at the door. Maybe he was as nervous about being alone with her as she was of being alone with him. Had been, she corrected herself. After learning that he'd been quite ready, but unwilling to hurt her, frighten her...which was so typical of him...well, there couldn't be a problem - could there? Or was he hiding behind the need to 'protect' her, perhaps even unaware of his own true feelings? Once again the doubts, the fears, began to creep in and take hold.

She leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes. She'd searched her memory, again. Nothing. Even the...feelings...were fading. But she knew, damn it, she knew! And so did Daniel. She was no longer the woman she'd been when they'd left the SGC two weeks ago. She'd been raped. She was no longer 'untouched' by any other man. How could he deal with that? How could he want to touch her, make love to her, knowing that he wasn't her one and only? Something that he'd always been so delighted about was now just a bittersweet memory. She took a deep breath. Blew it out slowly. All she could do was hope for the best. Expect the worst. And deal with reality.

"Hey, there."

She opened her eyes. He was smiling at her, his hands in his pockets. "Hey."

"Ready to go?"

"I guess so," she replied. He hadn't asked if she was ready to go home. Just if she was ready to go. Not a good sign, she decided. She started to stand up. Couldn't help but smile when that warm, strong hand appeared in front of her face. Long, slender fingers wrapped around hers. She let him pull her to her feet. Was cautiously optimistic when his arm went around her shoulders automatically. Don't read too much into it, she warned herself sternly. It could just be habit. And it's a...casual...thing. Nothing intimate about it.

He smiled when her arm went around his waist. So far, so good. If she didn't object to him putting his arm around her, they were one step in the right direction. He was feeling as nervous as he had the night he'd taken her to that hotel in Tacoma, knowing that she was a virgin, about to give him what no man had ever received from her... Bingo! That was it! She'd never given herself to any other man, only him. What was taken from her, well, that didn't count now, did it? Not any more than what had happened to him on Yu's ship, or during his imprisonment by Osiris. Sarah had never answered his direct question about whether or not they'd engaged in sexual intercourse, he would never call it making love...it might have been Sarah's body, but it hadn't been Sarah! The fact that she hadn't looked at him when she'd given a vague non-answer had confirmed his suspicions. Casey never, ever mentioned that time. He had no idea how often it crossed her mind, or if it did.

The ride to ground level was made in silence. Usually the silences between them were just as comfortable as their conversations. Now it seemed to weigh heavy in the air. She tossed about in her mind for something to say, something not related to the SGC, or Tem, or Ba'al...or what had occurred during the preceding thirteen days. Nothing seemed to come forward.

She was quiet. He'd learned that only with him did she seem to chatter non-stop. Oh, she talked easily enough with their friends...family. But she was the most talkative with him, especially when they were alone. He loved that chatter; her witty observations, the multitude of questions she asked, the spirited discussions that ensued. They signed out, caught the bus just outside of the huge, thick door that could seal the mountain off in a matter of minutes if need be. When the vehicle moved clear of the tunnel, his heart sank with disappointment. Oh, hell! It was snowing! It looked as if it had been snowing steadily for some time now. The road up the side of the mountains was a narrow, two-lane dirt road. No way would he risk it in weather like this! Shit! He hadn't realized how much hope he'd pinned on taking her to that lookout, to the place where they'd made love for nearly three hours.

Casey glanced at his face. He was frowning. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, was afraid that she couldn't deal with the answer. So she said nothing.

"Hungry?" he asked, as they waited for the jeep to warm up.

She shook her head.

"Case, you haven't eaten much in the past couple of weeks. We can stop and pick up some Chinese. Or a pizza. Or burgers. Whatever you want."

That sweet, familiar phrase made her breath catch in her throat. What she wanted, he couldn't give her. No matter how much he might want the same thing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't erase her time as Ba'al's prisoner. As his slave. Even if she couldn't remember it, her captivity rose like a wall between them. "It's up to you. I'm not hungry," she said softly.

His frown deepened. "We could go to O'Malley's."

"I can't go in anywhere like this. I look like shit."

He glanced over at her. Smiled. She was wearing the jeans she'd been gardening in. There were grass stains on the knees. "You look beautiful to me," he said softly.

She smiled. Turned back to look out of the window. Her heart pounding harder with each mile they drove. She was feeling damned near panicked when they turned onto Baldwin Street.

He could see her fingers shaking. Reached over and covered both slender hands with his, squeezed gently. When he pulled into the driveway, the jeep had barely come to a complete stop before she was out, bounding up the front steps, to the front door, and into the house. He frowned. Something was wrong. It was as if being alone with him frightened her...or at the very least made her nervous. He opened the garage, parked the jeep, then hurried to the side door. The snow was falling heavier now. If it kept up, they were going to be snowed in by morning. It took the snowplows most of the day to reach their side of town after a heavy snowfall.

She grabbed her robe, fled into the bathroom. She wanted a bath. A nice, long hot bath. To soak away...to soak away what...the touch of those Jaffa? To at least wash away the memories of the mission, as much as that was possible. She stripped off her clothes, tossed them into the hamper. Realized for the first time that the underwear she'd been wearing the morning she was captured was...gone. Her favorite blue set. Well, she could always replace them. She turned on the taps in the clawfoot tub. Added a generous amount of bubble bath. She glanced at the door, contemplated locking it. Decided against it. She doubted that he'd bother her anyway.

He heard the water running. Stood just outside the bathroom door. Should he go in? Should he give her privacy? He ran a hand over his face. What he wanted to do was to join her. He liked making love in the bathtub, her skin soft and slick, her body so willing to take him, her sighs telling him that he pleased her. Goddamn it! It shouldn't be this damned difficult! Not for them! Their love was like a raging inferno...a calm beautiful ocean...as vast as the sky above them. Oh great. Now I'm waxing poetic! He shook his head. She'd told him several times that he had the heart, the soul of a poet.

She wasn't sure, but she thought he was standing on the other side of the door. She held her breath, waiting for him to come into the room. To smile at her. Drop his clothes and join her, like he had so many times before. She could hear him open the doors to his study. She sank into the water, closed her eyes. Let the tears fall. Words began to dance in her head. Words that would come out as a poem in her journal. Which would become the written echo of the pain in her heart. No matter what had happened in that isolation room, he couldn't touch her...didn't want to be near her. She was certain of it. At that moment, laying on the infirmary bed, she'd been a terrified slave; and that kindness, that goodness that was inherently Daniel had reacted to that. When she'd once again become his wife, the wife who'd been raped - sullied by the hands of countless Jaffa - he just couldn't resign himself to touching her.

He tossed his jacket onto the upholstered chair that was tucked into the corner, beside his desk. Where she sat and read when he was busy working. Dropped down into the leather chair where they'd made love the night before that Saturday afternoon...He leaned his head back. Closed his eyes. Wasn't sure how long he could take it before his need drove him insane. He strained to hear her, hoping to hear her humming or singing. Frowned at the silence.

She took a shuddering breath. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. To make love to him until the fear in her heart was subdued completely. That wasn't going to be happening any time soon. Not the way things stood at the moment. She worried that it would never happen at all.

There were nearly a dozen papers that he could, and did file. Books to be put away. Notes to be organized. He even checked his email, answering most of them, several from the other archaeologists who worked for the SGC, questions about specific missions or what he wanted done with certain artifacts. He'd deal with this. Just to kill time until she was ready to talk...ready to make love. Which he hoped would be damned soon!

When she walked into the hallway, she could hear him typing. He was busy, probably dealing with all of the minutia that seemed to pile up when SG-1 was on a mission. He'd been away from the Mountain for two weeks. No doubt there was a lot to catch up on. She quietly took a pillow and blanket from the closet, not wanting to disturb him. She pulled her journal from her purse. Settled onto the couch. Began to write.




She'd been in there a hell of a long time. He frowned, glanced at his watch. Two hours. Okay, enough of this! He tossed down his pen, headed for the bathroom. The door was open, the light was off. He slipped into the bedroom. Turned on the small lamp on the bedside table. When he looked over at the bed, he realized she wasn't in it.

She was sound asleep on the sofa, her journal open beside her. He pushed a lock of blonde silk from her face. He carefully pulled the notebook from limp fingers. Was about to close it, set it on the sofa table, when the first words of the poem caught his eye. He glanced at her. She'd been timid about letting him read her poetry. But she'd let him read it. What she'd shared with him had been very good. That several of the poems had been about him had swelled his chest with pride. He sucked on his lower lip for a moment. Decided that he needed to know what she was thinking...feeling. He'd endure her anger if she was upset. Because he had to know. His eyes began to move over the words, the true meaning of the poem instantly clear to him.



Oh, god! The pain-filled words on the page left him feeling sucker punched. He closed the journal, laid it on the coffee table. All of her life she'd been abused. Told again and again she was unwanted. Not worthy. He'd tried so damned hard to prove otherwise to her, to show her what a beautiful, incredible woman she was. She still didn't see what he saw. Again and again she'd been abandoned. Just as she expected from him now. She was certain he'd leave her, because she was 'damaged goods'. In her mind she was that chipped, dirty crystal goblet. Even though she couldn't remember details...could remember nothing of her captivity, or most of it...she knew that she'd been abused. Molested. Raped. And had convinced herself that because of it, he didn't...couldn't...love her.

He wanted to scream in frustration. In anger. Instead, he went back into the study. Found the report that he'd been working on the day they'd left the house, her gift telling her that something was about to happen. He frowned. That thought nudged him, poked at him. Why hadn't she seen this coming? She could always see if things were going to go 'bad'. But she hadn't breathed a word about this...nor had there been any of the little signs that alerted him to the fact that she was keeping something from him. Was she not able to 'see' anything if it pertained only to her?

Coffee. He needed coffee. As quietly as possible, he set about making a pot. It wouldn't be nearly as good as hers. She made one hell of a good cup of coffee. He smiled as the memory of the first night he'd met her flittered through his mind. Great coffee. Great kisser. The perfect woman. He returned to the study to wait for the machine to work its magic on the water and grounds that he'd put into it. Sat staring at the monitor, seeing not it, but his Wife; her mind broken, her body brutalized, cowering in the corner crying out with fear, swearing her obedience again and again, terrified of the punishment she was certain lay ahead for her. Her memory was back...she was back. But his life, his beautiful, wonderful life with her, was still...missing. And might never be returned to him.

Patience. He just had to be patient. Not easy when his heart, and his body, were screaming for her. If he pushed her, he could lose her forever. Better to wait, no matter how difficult it was, than risk losing all!

With a sigh, he shook himself mentally. Tried to force his mind back to the work he'd been doing. Hoping that she'd complete her journey home, to his arms....soon!




She opened her eyes. Looked around. Saw the blanket tucked carefully around her, and her journal closed and on the sofa table. Oh, good grief! Had he read it? Her pathetic attempt to come to terms with what was happening. Steeling herself for the inevitable. She sat up. Wanted so badly to go to him. Even if he couldn't touch her...to just sit in the same room with him...

"He loves you, you little dolt!"

Miss Eloise's voice echoed in her head. She could recall the conversation with her spirit guide. Sam's words began to echo as well. She glanced toward the study. The light was on. He was probably lost in his work. Well, tough cookies! She needed him...needed for him to show her, prove to her that their love was still strong, that there was nothing wrong between them, that she could...did...still please him.

She tossed back the blanket. Didn't bother to pull the silk robe closed over her naked body. She marched into the study. He was staring at the monitor. But didn't seem to be working. With strength born of determination, she pulled the chair he was in toward the middle of the room, spun him toward her, wrapped her hands in the front of his shirt, and tugged until he was on his feet. She leaned up, pressed her lips firmly against his, locked her hands behind his neck, pressed her body against his, and silently dared him to step away from her.

He'd been taken by surprise when she moved his chair. He was on his feet as soon as her hands had begun to pull at him. She was soft and warm and her familiar scent filled his senses. One arm locked around her waist, holding her tightly against his body; the other hand on the back of her head, preventing her from moving way. His tongue worked the combination to those sweet lips, dove into her mouth; any thoughts of gentleness lost in the raging inferno of love and desire that consumed him.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, the zipper of his pants. His hands pushed her robe to the floor, burned a trail of fire over her skin. He pushed at her, she backed up slowly, until she was leaning against the closet door, their mouths devouring one another as they battled for control of the kiss that had their bodies burning with need.

"No...no..." he said softly, pulling away from her. Not here...not like this! It was too...rough...too much like impassioned sex, not enough like passionate love.

She could feel her heart falling to her feet. Until he swept her into his arms, carried her into the bedroom. Fell onto the bed with her.

"Don't move," he rasped, getting to his feet long enough to strip. After his return from Yu's ship, and the days spent with Osiris, she had reclaimed him. He was about to do the same for her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, her green eyes blazing with need as she watched him shuck his clothes, tossing them in whatever direction his hands yanked them. Her breath caught in her throat...he was fully aroused, and his need darkened his blue eyes.

He stretched out beside her, his hand moving from her throat to her hip, up her belly, brushed against the curve of her breast, then cupping her cheek as he began to kiss her again, his tongue pushing into her mouth; touching, tasting...sending his love with every caress.

She had both hands on his face; he hadn't shaved in several days, and the growth of his beard only served to turn her on more as she ran her fingers over his jaw. When Daniel slanted his mouth over hers, taking more, needing more, she opened her mouth wider to him, gave him what he demanded.

He was ravenous...he wanted to taste her and touch her and take her...all at once. There was frantic need in his movements. His brain barely registered that she was reacting with the same frenzied need. He moved his mouth from hers, over her jaw, to her throat. Licking, nipping, kissing that soft, fragrant skin until her body was trembling beneath him. He had no idea what had happened in that chamber of horrors. Even though she didn't remember...at least, not the details...she needed him to take her back...completely. "Mine," he growled softly, before suckling that sensitive spot behind her ear.

She shivered, her heart hammering against her ribs. When he began to whisper his love in her ear, her body shivered again. Her fingers moved through his hair, clenching tightly when he moved from her throat to her breasts. His hands held her, caressed her, his fingers surrounding the curves of each gentle swell; his body pressing against hers, his weight warm and real and exactly what she needed. Her back arched as his mouth, his tongue teased her nipples to hard peaks.

"You're mine, Angel," he murmured, kissing his way from one nipple to the other. Leaving a bruise between those perfect orbs. "No one can take you from me. No one can make you feel the way I can make you feel."

Tears filled her eyes as he staked his claim on her...again. Her response was to arch higher, push against his hands, his mouth.

As desperate as he was to taste that sweet honey, to feel her body wrap around his, he'd take his time. Make certain that she was enjoying his ministrations, ensure that her flight of ecstasy took her to the stars and beyond.

When he began to suckle, she let out a soft moan of approval, the sensations of pleasure zipping up and down her spine, settling between her thighs where her need ached and tingled. "Only you," she whispered, "only you."

He smiled against her skin. Her hips were pushing up against him so hard she was damned near lifting him off of the mattress. He slid his hands to her waist, his mouth still nipping at those luscious nipples. Gently forced her body back down onto the bed. He licked and kissed his way to her sexy little belly-button, teased it, tasted it; the undulation of her belly pleasing him, making his heart pound with satisfaction. He slid down, grinned when her thighs fell open completely, giving him full access to that delectable pink flesh. He took a deep breath, reveled in her sweet scent. Locked his eyes with hers as his tongue delved into that sweet honey pot. She moaned, her hips twitched, and she rewarded his efforts with a flood of that precious nectar. He took down every drop, his body shaking from the effects of her very essence. He ran the flat of his tongue over the wet folds of her womanhood, then used the tip to trace them, seek any wayward drops of the potion she created with which to enchant him.

She was going to lose her mind. She couldn't take much more before she just melted down into a blithering blob of sheer need. Every inch of her body was hypersensitive as Daniel continued to build up the crescendo within her. The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair as he made love to her, the fingers of the other digging into his shoulder. She locked her legs around his torso, making certain he couldn't move away from her, leave her burning...straining for sweet release.

"You belong to me," he whispered, his breath moving over that sensitive skin. "This belongs to me, and me alone."

When he began to tease that hard nub that brought such pleasure, she cried out, her hips moving up and down against his face, her fingers tightened in his hair and tugged gently. When he slid two fingers inside her, began to stroke deep inside at the same time her clit found its way into his mouth, that whimper filled her throat, rose to an aria of love as her climax exploded around her...in her. "Daniel! Unngg...Dan...iel!"

Oh, yeah! Straight into orbit! Sing for me, babe, he thought gleefully, his mouth and tongue removing every trace of her orgasm from her skin. He slid back up her body, the tremors that continued to move her making him grin against her skin. "My beauties," he crooned as he stopped to kiss each pink tip before moving on to her lips.

"The girls are certainly glad to see you."

"Ya think so?"

"I know so," she giggled. "My turn," she whispered.

His body shivered with anticipation as he rolled to his back. His cock was standing straight up, throbbing with expectation. "Do it," he whispered in reply.

She could remember the Jaffa who hit her, slapped her when her answers to Ba'al's questions didn't suit him. She had no doubt that they, along with countless others, had raped her. But she'd never touched them. Never made love to them the way that she made love to Daniel. She ran her fingers over his jaw, the raspy feel of the whiskers turning her on...the way it always did. She gave his throat the same treatment he'd given hers, leaving her mark on him, then marking each collarbone. His flat, brown nipples were pebbled with desire; she teased them, suckled at them until he moaned.

It felt as if he'd been hard, been needy, for days. His balls ached. His cock ached. He needed to come so damned badly that his entire body ached! He watched as she slid down to his hips. Gasped when those soft hands began to caress him, one on his balls, one moving slowly up and down the shaft of his erection. Her eyes danced with excitement...with glee...as she watched him watch her. Her tongue moved over the sensitive head of his cock, taking the precum that leaked from that tiny opening into her mouth, a wispy thread that connected her to him shining in the light. "Do it," he begged again.

His shoulders came up off of the bed when she sucked him into her mouth hard and fast, flicking her tongue over him, setting up a rhythm immediately. His hips met her every time she moved down on him. That's what I'm talking about, she crowed silently. He'd been denied release for too long, and even though he'd driven her to the brink of insanity, and richly deserved the same, there would be no teasing tonight. She wanted him to fly. She wanted him groaning, and crying out her name. And she wanted it soon! 

He filled his hands with her hair, the sight of her moving up and down over his cock enough to make him want to shout with joy. She meant business tonight...there was no teasing...just that incredible tongue moving over and over him as she sucked and licked and did everything she could to make him feel good...drive him insane. "Only me, Angel. You do this for only me," he whispered, establishing complete ownership of her; heart, mind, body and soul. Neither had relinquished the love that bound them heart to heart, soul to soul. But her heart, her mind had been as abused as her body, and she needed the reassurance...even if the memories weren't there, the knowledge of what had happened was.

She felt his sac tighten, could feel that magnificent cock swell more, harden more...he was ready. She shifted over him, relaxed her throat and took him as far as she could. When she began to swallow his eyes rolled back, and the groan of satisfaction that rumbled from his belly, up into his chest, past lips pulled back against his teeth as he cried out, made her giddy with excitement. She took everything he gave her, didn't stop the tender, loving caresses until the throbbing had ceased completely.

He could barely lift his arm to put it around her when she cuddled close to his side. "You're amazing," he whispered.

"So are you," she whispered in return.

"Love you, Angel."

She smiled. "Love you too."

His fingers moved lazily over her arm, her fingers traced designs over his chest. He wanted, needed to be inside her, needed to make love to her. But the nagging fear that doing so might trigger a memory of any...or god forbid, all the times she'd been raped...held his tongue, kept him laying sedately on the bed.

She frowned slightly. By now they should be making love, his magnificent manhood filling her completely. If he could make love to her orally, then surely he could make love to her using his beautiful body. "Daniel?"


"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."


He sighed. He didn't know if she was 'seeing' something, or if she just knew him so well that she could pick up his unease. He continued to caress her.

She pulled away. Started to get off of the bed. Obviously he didn't have a problem with oral sex. Probably because that hadn't been part of her...punishment...as Ba'al's slave. That was something that would have given her pleasure, and her pleasure was not the goal of having the Jaffa take her. It was meant to cause pain and humiliation. Without a doubt, it had done both.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asked softly, grabbing her hand, tugging her back to his side. Winced when green eyes filled with deep hurt settled on him.

"You can't...or won't...make love to me. So...I'm going to bed."

He frowned. "Going to bed?"

"I'll sleep on the sofa," she replied, her chin tilted upwards, stubborn pride battling the hurt in her eyes. She was devastated at his reaction to her. She'd be damned if she'd let him know just how badly it hurt!

"Any reason you don't want to sleep with me?"

"I don't think you can handle it."


"I'm tired, Daniel." She pulled away from him.

The look of dejection on her sweet, beautiful face cut him to the quick. Now, bucko. Tell her what's bothering you now, before the rift becomes too deep to heal. Before she decides that leaving completely is the only way to deal with her pain. "I don't want you remembering."

She stopped in the doorway. Turned to face him. "I didn't think that was possible."

"It's probably not. But god, Case, what if...what if it does trigger memories of what happened to you?" He wouldn't be able to cope with the guilt if his actions, if his making love to her triggered memories that would bring her grief, and pain...and send her into an emotional and mental tailspin that would steal her from him...possibly forever. No, he couldn't deal with that!

She smiled. "I don't see how it could. There's a huge difference between making love, and being raped." She sighed, leaned against the door frame. "I was so hoping that the fact that I wouldn't...and don't...remember any of...that...meant we could just come home, and pretend it never happened," she admitted softly. "I guess I forgot that you have to deal with it too."

He frowned. "How do I have to deal with it?"

"Knowing that other men have..." she blushed brightly, turned her head. Fought back the tears. "I'm really tired."

He watched her disappear into the hallway. For a little while, not quite two hours, everything had been perfect. Like it had been before things went to hell on the mission. That he was worried about her, concerned about her well-being seemed to be lost on her. All she saw...all she felt, was his rejection of her. He sat up. If he didn't do this now, he knew that they would need a counselor. And that he might never win her back. His mind made up, his body more than happy to cooperate, he strode into the living room.

She was on her side, facing the back of the leather sofa. Tears of anguish rolled down her cheeks. She'd been so certain that making the first move... letting him know that she needed him, wanted him...would make everything all right between them. She'd been wrong. She jumped slightly when she felt his lips on her bare shoulder. One strong, warm hand was moving over her, caressing her, touching her.

"I want you, Case, god I want you so much! I need you, too babe." He took her hand, slid it between his legs, to the erection that continued to swell.

"I'm here, Daniel," she whispered. She rolled to her back. He settled over her, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulled him closer, her hips pointed upward in anticipation, her body trembling with impatience. She reached between them, stroked him tenderly, guided him to that part of her body that waited to welcome him.

He pushed gently, sank into her sweet warmth, his eyes drifting shut as her body closed around him, held him tightly. He couldn't hold back a sigh at the pleasure that rocked him from head to foot.

She gasped, the feeling so wonderful that it brought tears to her eyes.


His voice was full of fear. She tightened her arms around his shoulders. "You feel so good," she murmured.

He buried his face against her neck, breathed deeply of her intoxicating scent. "So do you, Angel," he said, his words slightly muffled. Oh, god she felt wonderful! Tight and hot and wet and his cock was home! He hadn't realized just how much he'd needed her, needed to be inside her. He was throbbing hard and fast, and he was damned close to blowing his load right then!

She held him, waited for him to begin their dance of love. Frowned as he continued to lay still on top of her. "Daniel?"

"Give me a second, babe. If I move now, it'll be all over before it gets started."

She giggled. "Missed me that much, huh?"

He grinned against her skin. "Smartass."

"Then I guess I shouldn't do this?" she asked playfully, just before she began to massage him, using those muscles deep inside.

"Sweet Jesus!" He rose up on his arms, pulled his hips away from her.

She smiled, wreathed his face with her hands. "Remember what Teal'c said. It never happened. I don't remember it, and you didn't witness it. It never happened. I've never loved any other man. Never wanted to love any other man," she whispered. "I'll never love anyone but you."

He smiled. The linguist in him took note of exactly what she'd said. It was no longer true that no other man had touched her. But he was the only man she'd ever loved. The only man she'd ever allowed to love her. The only man she gave herself to so willingly. "You're mine, Angel. You belong to me."

"Totally yours. Heart, mind, body and soul," she replied softly.

Once more in control of his body, he pushed back into her warmth. Began to move slowly, deeply; grinding his hips against hers. Watched the green of her eyes darken in the dim light that reflected into the room, from the fixture above the kitchen sink. He dipped his head to kiss her. Smiled to himself when her arms and legs tightened around him, tugged him closer.

As much as he wanted this sweet ride to last, his need had been so intense, and the passion was building so quickly that he could only hope to last long enough to make her come. Her head was back, her body arched against his, her hips moving with his every step of the way. He lowered himself completely, slid a hand between their thrusting bodies, found that hard little nub and began to caress it.

"Oh, yes!" she whispered, shivering from his touch. "Right there!"

Her hips were moving hard, pushing against him, her breath coming faster. Her thighs began to quiver, and that adorable whimper filled her throat. "Take it, babe...fly," he whispered in her ear.

"Harder, faster," she begged. She gasped, then moaned softly; her hips remained in motion as lights and colors exploded behind her closed eyelids.

With a grunt of animal desire, he rose up on his hands and the balls of his feet, pushing into her as deeply as possible, his thrusts increasing in speed. She began to massage him again, and the stimulation was more than he could take. With a cry, he drove into her, his cock pulsing hard and fast as he emptied himself into her welcoming body. He collapsed on top of her, trying to catch his breath.

"I remember something," she whispered in his ear.

He froze. His heart began to pound with fear, waiting to hear what horror was playing through her mind.

"I remember the first time you made love to me," she whispered, her breath warm against the side of his face. "How wonderful...incredible it was. It's always amazing, it always takes my breath away, makes me want to cry with happiness."

He smiled, relief washing over him in waves. "I remember how beautiful you were when you took flight for the first time, how it made me feel so damned happy to have been the first man to give you that pleasure," he whispered in return.

"You're the first man, the only man who has ever given me pleasure," she murmured. Took comfort from the knowledge that regardless of what had happened to her, that fact could never be changed.

He shifted slightly. "Still tired?"


"Let's go to bed, Angel." He pulled himself to his feet. Gathered her into his arms. Carried her to the bedroom. The preceding twenty-two hours had been grueling emotionally. They were both exhausted. When they were settled, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her, holding her tightly, sleep claimed them both. Their fears disappeared with the darkness of the night.

<<Previous  | Story Intro | Return to Stories | Next >>

SciFi Topsites