No Color to Behold
by ALC Punk!

Not gay, because he's never been attracted to men, never met them in restrooms or back alleys.

Until now.

It's harder and harder to look at himself in the mirror every day, but Jack manages it.

He has to shave, after all.

When he's at work, buried underneath tons of paperwork and steel, metal and concrete, it's not a problem. The military mind has always used don't ask, don't tell. And no one, except maybe Daniel, is ever going to notice that Jack is less tense.

And Daniel will probably just decide that he's come to terms with her. And him.

Daniel would almost be right.

The first time he fucked Pete Shanahan, he was surprised to find out how much he liked it. How much he needed to feel this sense of -- not completeness. Maybe rightness. Maybe this sick and twisted sense of revenge. She is not enough for her fiancé, and so Pete turns to Jack.

Shanahan comes hard when there's a cock down his throat, and Jack figures if it's his, at least there aren't any diseases being passed onto his Lieutenant Colonel.

At least he was rationalizing it.

There was never anything said, Jack can vaguely remember a bar, and Shanahan cornering him in the restroom. An Air Force General, brought to his knees by a puny detective from Denver. And Jack had to hang onto the sink in case his knees really did go while Pete bobbed his head up and down on him.

He could have escaped in the beginning. He could have stepped away, told him no.

But there weren't any words.

Just nimble fingers, and a strangled moan and then Pete's mouth wrapping around his dick.

They never plan to meet. In fact, if Jack were less paranoid, he would think Pete was following him. But Shanahan already knows his routine.

Some mornings, talking with Walter about his schedule, Jack considers having "meet Shanahan for blowjob" added to it. That would give the SGC something more to talk about than Carter's shoulders, Teal'c's arms and Daniel's eyes.

He never asks if this will continue once they're married. Asking would give it a legitimacy he doesn't want.

There's never reciprocation. Shanahan seems to get that he doesn't want a man's penis in his mouth, and brings lube and wraps a hand around himself while his lips and tongue are busy with Jack.

Shanahan is an expert, sometimes dragging Jack to the edge and then leaving him dangling until he's almost hoarse, holding back the words that linger in his throat. He's a General, and there's no fucking way he's begging for it. Ever. At least, that's what he tells himself when Pete's mouth finally takes him over the edge, his own head thrown back, eyes closed.

This way, he can imagine for a fleeting instant that the hair he runs his fingers through is blonde.

But it's too short and too coarse, and he's rarely able to even touch more than a glimpse of *that* fantasy.

He doubts Shanahan has a clue.

The first time he begs, Shanahan moved them out into the parking lot. The new venue is enough to give it an illicit thrill, and when Pete's kneeling on the gravel, Jack doesn't think twice about what it must be doing to his knees. He's much more interested in the added swirl of Pete's tongue, the way the stars above are barely visible, and the breeze that blows along his sweat-soaked skin.

And he's almost there when Shanahan stops.

A mewl of protest travels up his throat but doesn't make it past his lips.

The gravel crunches as Shanahan stands and leans into him, jeans brushing against his cock. "Beg."

No. But he can't form a coherent thought, because Sam Carter's fiancé is asking him to beg to get sucked off, and for a moment it's too fucking surreal.

Then a finger brushes him, and Jack can't help the slight whimper that escapes.

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

No.

The hand smacks against him, and this time it's pain that tears a sound from him.

"I will leave you like this. And I'll never meet you again."

No. Walk away. Fuck. Off. Jack opens his mouth to say just that, and the words twist as Shanahan's fingers graze him. It slips out, breathlessly, "Please."

The reward is Pete's mouth closing on him, neck working, tongue stroking, and an explosion that leaves his world turned upside-down, his ears ringing with a lack of sound as his body slumps back against the car they chose.

"See you later." There's something almost mocking in Shanahan's voice. He simply walks away, leaving Jack behind.

I am not gay, he thinks vaguely as he zips himself back up. Then he pushes thought away, and concentrates on finding his truck.

When he wakes up in the morning, he shaves by touch.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!