Tied

”I’m fine,” Jack snapped again, glaring at MacKenzie. The psychiatrist sighed, flipping the notebook shut and tucking the pen away in his pocket.

“Colonel O’Neill, you’re NOT fine. You’re suffering from a reoccurrence of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, brought on by the last mission. I’m not sure exactly what’s triggered it since neither Captain Carter nor the other members of the team are up to sharing more than the bare minimal details, but I CAN tell you that unless I see some improvement in your condition I’ll have you declared unfit for duty.”

“You can’t DO that—“

“Sir, I can and I will.” Heading for the door, he paused a moment and looked back at O’Neill. The man was pale, haggard, tense. His brown eyes glittered feverishly. MacKenzie sighed.

“Get some help, Jack,” he muttered kindly.

For a long time afterwards, O’Neill sat in the leather chair in the briefing room, rubbing his eyes, trying to master his rage. A few deep breaths; he stood and with a savage sweep of his arm sent the water pitcher and glasses in front of him flying. They shattered with a wet crunch to the carpet as O’Neill slammed his fists on the table, gritting his teeth.


*** *** ***

“This is serious, Jack,” Daniel sighed, looking over the report. O’Neill had his hands shoved deep in his pockets and was gazing at a mask artifact on the wall of Daniel’s office, seemingly deaf to the archeologist’s words.

“They’re talking medication, Jack—some really heavy duty stuff here if you keep stonewalling them. Janet’s fighting to keep you on the active roster, but that’s not going to last long if you don’t get some help, talk to somebody, live it out—“

“—What the hell are you talking about Daniel? I get enough psychoshit from MacKenzie without you joining the pack.”

Daniel sighed and dropped the report into his lap, rubbing his tired eyes under his glasses.

“Jack, you’ve been through this before,” he began gently, “You know the choices. You can talk this out, or you can go with the exposure therapy and work your way through it. MacKenzie doesn’t know the exact triggers, but I DO, and honestly, you’re prime for en vivo.”

O’Neill clenched his jaw, and Daniel sensed his trepidation. It was a pity Jack spent so much of his time hiding his deep intelligence, he mused.

“You’re talking at least a two hour session, maybe more” O’Neill began agitatedly. “One hundred and twenty minutes reliving, acting out the situation that scaree lie living crap outta me. No thanks.”

“Fine Jack, you want to spend the next fifteen years of your life retired and doped up on Haldol?” Daniel demanded harshly. “Because that’s the direction you’re headed. Jesus! You’ve fought everything from mercenaries to System Lords, and damned bravely I might add. Why stop now? You’re bigger than this, you’re smarter than this.”

O’Neill didn’t speak for a moment. He looked at Daniel.

“What are my triggers, Danny?”

“Restraints,” he replied swiftly. “You hate being helpless and at somebody else’s mercy, Jack. You always have.”

O’Neill nodded slowly, licking his lips.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Not really. I just happen to have been with you for long enough to figure it out. I’m willing to guess it goes back to your POW days in Iraq. You didn’t deal with it then, and every time we gate somewhere with dungeons or cells you get a lot more agitated and hyper.”

O’Neill tried to glare, but Daniel simply outstared him, waiting. He tapped the report in his lap.

“Does Rose know?”

“Yeah. She’s heard the story. She’s been woken up by my nightmares.”

“Could she help you?” It was asked softly. O’Neill shot a startled look at Daniel, who nodded. The meaning was clear, but he repeated himself.

“Could she . . . HELP . . . you?”

“I . . . don’t know,” O’Neill admitted weakly.

Daniel reached over and laid a hand on O’Neill’s shoulder, hiding his hurt when the older man flinched. Jack had always been so physically open prior to this; seeing him recoil was an indication of how stressed he actually was.

“Jack . . . If she was the one to take you through it . . .” Daniel began in a gentle voice, “would you consider it?”

O’Neill looked up, dark eyes glittering. He seemed to give the suggestion serious thought, and nodded, reluctantly.

“She’d be the one,” he whispered.


*** *** ***


He shivered. The room was warm, the entire place done in neutral browns and golds and tans. The lighting was indirect, and the shades had been closed, giving a shadowy feel to the place. O’Neill fought the urge to fidget while Rose stood on tiptoe, locking the top bolt securely. She smiled over her shoulder at O’Neill and motioned to the bathroom.

“Jack, you need to relax. Go take a bath or a shower while I get things organized in here. Take your time, don’t rush. What music do you want?”

“A sonata—you pick. Something . . . .” he waved a hand indecisively, “ . . . peaceful. Anything to drink?”

“Later. If you do this under the influence it won’t be a real acclimation,” Rose reminded him. He rubbed a hand over his face and shifted to the facilities, closing the door gently. In the cold light of the hotel bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror, a little afraid of the stern-faced man with the haunted eyes who stared back at him. The lines around his mouth were a bit deeper, the grey of his hair and brows a bit lighter. He mockingly blew himself a kiss and turned to the shower.

Even the heat of the shower wasn’t enough to loosen the tension in his shoulders. He cursed the tiny hotel soap, giving up on it after it broke in his fist. He stayed in long enough to get wrinkles on his fingertips, and by the time he immerged the shower had become cold. None of the towels were big enough; he fought his growing irritation.

He opened the door unenthusiastically. Two steps into the room, he saw her sitting at the desk, waiting for him, and he drew in a sharp sigh, unable to hide the response that skittered across his face and body at the sight of her.

“Jesus!” he breathed. She smiled at him.

“Thought it might help make this a little more pleasant,” Rose murmured, pleased at his reaction. She ran a hand down the fishnet stockings and gave a self-conscious pat on her calf. “God knows how I’m supposed to WALK in these—“

Jack cleared his throat, still a little dazed.

“You DON’T, babe—that’s why there’re called—“

“—yeah, yeah I know. All right. Take a look at the bed, Jack,” she directed gently. He shifted to cast a doubtful gaze over it. He bit his lip when he saw the padded cuffs dangling from the spinels of the headboard. Rose stood. In the heels she was almost four inches taller, and able to peek over his shoulder.

“What’s with the, ah, fur?”

“Padding on the cuffs. I’m not about to have you get hurt if I can help it, Jack, and this is one of the ways I can do that,” she reassured him. “If you’re going to be bound, it’s going to be a gentle as I can make it.”

“Ah,” he noted absently, lost in thought. Rose waited a moment, drinking in the clean smell of his skin as she rested her nose on his shoulder. He drew in a deep breath and turned his head to look at her. She was pleased to see that his mouth, instead of being a grim line was in a slightly crooked twist.

“Okay. Tie me up,” he managed to croak out.


Hard. Even through the kisses and licks and soft promises, it was hard. One cuff wasn’t too bad, and the feet didn’t bother him, but oh that second wrist going up was murder. He tensed, even under Rose’s tender hands and gentle crooning, and the urge to fight against her was strong. She waited a few moments as the soft strains of violins drifted through the room.

“Patience, Jack—I can wait until you’re comfortable . . .” she murmured. He licked his lips, and got his breathing under control.

Okay. Slow . . .” he rasped out. She nodded, auburn hair in a glossy cascade as she leaned over and opened the cuff. The fur wrapped around his wrist and she slid the bindings through the buckles, locking them down gently. Jack’s bare chest heaved, but he said nothing. Rose watched him intently, her freckled face concerned; he flashed her a quick nervous grin.

“Um . . . .”

“It’s okay Jack. This wasn’t about sex.”

“With those stockings and shoes, coulda fooled me—“ he retorted weakly. She gave him a look full of love and serenity.

“Jack, when we get done with this if you still want a good shtupping I’m here, okay? But like I told you, this was to make you a little more comfortable with the tie-down.”

“Shtupping? God who are you, Madeline Kahn?” he managed a grin at her. Rose gave him a raised eyebrow and leaned back, laughing softly.

“You wish—I saw the way you watched her in Blazing Saddles, pal—“

“I admire her vocal range.”

“Like hell—you’re hot for her legs, Jack.”

“Okay, I admire those too,” he admitted. Rose stood up and managed a few steps away from the bed. Jack watched her, a tiny tingle of panic rising up. She demurely modeled her legs for him, shifting her hips to set them at their best advantage.

“What the hell does Madeline Kahn have that I don’t, Jack?”

“Madeline who?” he teased tightly. “Now come back, okay? I’m not . . . comfortable with you across the room like that—“ he tried to keep his tone light, but there was strain in his words. She waited a moment, then slowly returned to the side of the bed and sat on it, rubbing a hand over the soft fur on his chest. He relaxed a tiny bit, but couldn’t resist tugging slightly at his wrists.

“Hurts,” he added conversationally. “Being stretched out like this. How much longer?”

“A while, Jack. I’d like to kiss you.”

“Yes.” He lifted his head off the pillows, mouth meeting hers halfway as she leaned over. It was a breathtakingly good kiss, sweet and hard, with the silky flick of tongue on tongue. Jack sighed, relaxing back for a moment.

“Untie me.”

“No.”

*** *** ***

He raged at her, dark eyes wide and wild, hair in mad disarray as he rocked and tugged at his bonds. Rose sat through it calmly. Jack called her names, accused her of vile acts, of dubious paternity, of sexual deviancy. When he was too hoarse to say more, she held a water bottle to his lips. He drank and spat at her. She wiped the mess away with a towel and curled up against his hip to doze, not letting him see the tears. Jack flexed and fought.

When she awoke he was dozing, face defenseless and young in the weak light. Rose drew the blanket over him gently. She pressed kisses to his shoulders; groggily he turned his head, nuzzling her with the instinct of an animal seeking warmth, seeking nurturing.

“Jack. Now?” Her hands ached to unbuckle the cuffs.

He kept his eyes closed as his fingers flexed rhythmically.

“Not yet. Touch me. Talk to me.”

Rose brushed a hand through his sweat damp hair and smiled.

“About what?”

“Fucking.”

“Won’t that be a bad thing?”

“No,” he opened his eyes and stared at her. “But the blindfold will be—“

She searched his face, stroking his cheek gently. He kept his gaze on hers, and the pain in it made her wince.

“Do we have—“

“Yes--!” Jack insisted tightly. “—Or the whole thing’s been a waste. All the way.”

“Yes.”

The blindfold was a thin black silk scarf. Rose tied it tightly around his eyes, trying not to react so strongly herself to the image of him bound and blind.

He lifted his face up, and licked his lips.

“Talk to me,” Jack called out in a low voice. Rose crossed her arms over her shoulders.

“Fucking?”

“Make me beg.”

Rose hugged herself, keeping her shivers down.

“You have a filthy mind, Jack. As if I’d even think of HALF the nasty things you do,” she began softly. “I bet you even watch Daniel and Sam.”

“Daniel and--?”

“Oh yes, Jack. Daniel Jackson has gotten his big hands and wet mouth into Sam’s tiny panties a few times now. They haven’t fucked yet—I think he’s trying to be faithful to Shau're, but it’s getting harder for him. He wants to fuck Sam so badly, Jack. Eating her muff isn’t enough—“

“Ahhhhh . . .” Jack twisted, breathing deeply. Rose ran a hand up his sheet-covered leg and continued.

“He’s constantly rubbing on her, Jack, making her lick his cock whenever they have a moment alone—they nearly got caught by Hammond in the briefing room yesterday. Sam didn’t want to stop sucking him off.”

“Jesus Rose . . .” Jack thrashed against the sheet. She tugged it away from his body and slid to straddle one of his thighs, fingers gently running up the length of his rigid cock.

“Nice. It’s been a while since I’ve played with a cock myself, Jack . . .”

“Help yourself—“ he spluttered, the cords on his neck standing out. Rose traced a finger through the soft fur covering his balls.

“I just might. Tell me, Jack, do you know how horny I am?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, twisting his head towards her, “I can smell you—“

“Mmmmmmmmm yes.” She leaned down to breathe on his face; he opened his mouth, waiting, but she pulled away again. Jack shuddered.

“Close! You were damned CLOSE that time. Touch me—“

“Maybe—“ came her purr. Jack gave a grunt of frustration.

“God damn you—the minute I get loose I’m going to fuck you senseless. You KNOW that, don’t you?” came his exasperated growl. Rose ignored his tone. She carefully smeared skin lotion on her hand and grasped his straining cock. Jack flinched, but throbbed against her fingers.

“Ohhhhhhhhh yeah. Likethatlikethat . . .” he managed in a breathless gasp. Rose very slowly stroked him, letting her hand glide up the heated length of his velvety cock. Jack let his chin sag to his chest and took a deep breath. Rose watched his body language; he was focusing on her touch. She leaned over and ran a wet tongue in the hollow of his collarbone and was rewarded with a sharp gasp. Jack squirmed, his hands balling into fists for the hundredth time.

“Give it up for me,” she urged slowly. “Stop trying to control the situation, Jack. You’re helpless and you’re mine. Accept it, baby. Let me make you feel soooo good—“ As she spoke, she let her hand glide up and down his throbbing prick, caressing it in a way that make him bite his lips. A thin trickle of sweat ran down his temple to stain the blindfold.

“God, oh God . . .” he harshly breathed; legs flexing as Rose relentlessly brought him to the edge and gently backed off. He arched up, thrusting his pelvis to her stroke, but she lightened her grip and he gave a low howl.

"Fuckin’ tease, God damned bitch I’m going to KILL you—“ Jack hissed, the malice in his tone enough to make her laugh.

“With what? This big old aching hard on? Bring it on, JaI’m I’m wet, I’m more than ready baby—but you can’t get to me, can you? You’re lying here hard and throbbing while I’m just a few inches away—“

“You bitch, you fucking cunt—“ he accused, the tendons on his neck standing out. Rose bit her lip and took him in hand once more, her stroke bringing a whimper from him as he lunged in her hand.

“God, pleaseRose,Please—“

It was the submissive tone she’d been waiting for, the acceptance.

“You know I love you, Jack. I only want to make you feel good . . .” Rose crooned gently to him. His cock was like steel under her fingers, throbbing with desperate need; Rose squirmed against Jack’s strong thigh, feeling the residue of her arousal slick against his hot flesh. Jack’s beautiful mouth opened in a panting groan and his hips bucked upward blindly.

“OhGodohGodohDAMNYOOOOOOUUUUUU!” he shouted hoarsely as hot pulsing spasms erupted over Rose’s pumping fist. Tenderly she let his thrusts die away, loosening her grip and caressing him gently. As he caught his breath, she slid off his thigh and brought back a warm washcloth from the bathroom, wiping him clean. Jack was silent, and she couldn’t tell if he was even conscious or not for a while. She pulled a sheet up over him and stretched out at his side.

*** *** ***

“Rose—“ came his soft voice an hour later, “Rose sweetheart, where are you?”

“Here Jack. How do you feel?”

“ts hts hurt a little . . .” he licked his lips. “Gonna have to pee soon.”

“Ah.”

“Rose . . .” the tone was deeper now, a different sort of desperation, something seductive in it. Rose shivered. She was achy with stifled arousal and hypersensitive to the hot scent of Jack’s body.

“I’m here,” she let her hand caress his bare hip. He shifted, rolling with a sensual slowness that caught her eye. She let her fingers slide up the heated skin of his stomach.

“Nice . . .” he echoed her earlier words, her exact tone, and Rose grinned.

“Sounds like I should untie you,”

There was a speculative pause, and Jack whispered,

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Surprised, Rose drew in a breath as he smiled, deep dimples forming. His shoulders were relaxed for the first time, his smirk slightly tinged with a little boy naughtiness.

“Really?”

“Really. I’m . . . yours. Like you said . . . “ There was a serious pause before he finished, “ . . .at your mercy.”

She made a choked sound that seemed to be what he was waiting for; the O’Neill smile went full voltage.

“I trust you’ll deal with this situation . . . appropriately—“ he continued. Rose wasted no time; she straddled his chest and bent to press kisses across his face, tongue flicking and tasting the light salt of sweat and tears on his cheeks. When she pressed down on his waiting open mouth the kiss went deep and rich, leaving her gasping.

“More . . . “ he demanded with a smile. Rose kissed him again and again, letting him suck on her tongue, letting toy with the ridges on the roof of her mouth. She realized she was making small eager noises that he was answering with low confident tones in an almost animal communication.

“God I love the taste of you, Jack . . . “ With long happy licks she circled the shell of his ears, making him shiver under her.

“Oooooo Likethatlikethat . . .” he admitted. “More—“ She was happy to oblige, her own unanswered desire flaring up again in a heady surge. Rose couldn’t see his dark eyes, but his mouth and tongue were frantic for her taste, and he thrashed on the bed, not to escape, but simply to feel the weight of her. Rose wriggled, and Jack gave a strangled sigh.

“Let me kiss it . . . He whispered fiercely, “—Please . . . .You KNOW what I want . . .”

Rose knew. She brought her long legs up on either side of his head and slid her body forward. He lifted his face, lips parted, sighing with barely restrained anticipation. Ever so gently he slid his hungry tongue into the soft folds of her sex. Rose shuddered, her hips rocking blindly against his chin. She leaned forward, gripping the headboard, lifting herself so as not to smother him. Not that Jack seemed to care at the moment as he opened his mouth with a pleased sigh.

,

Good. Jack was good: instinct and natural talent blended as he focused his desire through his mouth, lapping kissing, sucking; Rose felt her body begin to stiffen against him.

”No, no . . .” Rose pulled away from Jack’s busy mouth, every nerve in her body in a frenzy. Jack gave an angry hiss.

“Get BACK here—that’s MINE . . .” came his soft, guttural claim. Rose gripped the headboard tighter and pulled herself up, climbing off the bed unsteadily.

“No Jack—you’re NOT in charge here, remember?” she told him. Jack tensed, and she looked down over his body, her mouth dry at the sight of him naked and bound.

He was long and sleek and angry in the fading candlelight, muscles defined and knotted with suppressed irritation. His big cock was hard, surging upward in a clear indication of his thwarted desire. Rose cursed herself for ever agreeing to this therapy; the unfulfilled ache within was driving her insane. She gave a sigh that Jack heard; he turned his blindfolded face towards her and licked his lips.

“I LOVE your flavor . . . always have, Rose. Could eat you all NIGHT, sugarpussy, and never stop . . .” he taunted in a raspy whisper. Rose tightened her lips and let her anger surge; she deliberately reached over and pinched his thigh. Jack gasped in pain, jerking up.

“Shut up, Jack. You don’t get what you want unless you beg, baby.”

“Oooh tough bitch now, huh? Having fun?”

Rose dropped her mouth on his cock, sliding her lips in one long luxurious stroke and was instantly rewarded when his hip bucked upward and he cried,

“Oh Je-SUSyeahhhhhh!”

Two more strokes and she pulled back. Jack was frantic.

“No!”

“Beg me, Jack. Tell me you’ll be a good boy. Tell me how much you need it, baby—“

Jack twisted his head to and fro in distress, the tendons on his neck standing out. Rose held her breath.

“God damn it you fuck me NOW, Rose MacGyver! I have put up with enough of this fucking therapy!” he raged. “Wanna be buried in you up to my aching BALLS, bitch!”

Rose heard the pain in his rage and knew he was teetering on the brink. She ran her hands along the outsides of his lean hips, letting her body trap his legs, letting her breath heat his cock.

“Sounds like an order to me, Colonel. NO. I need Jack to beg.”

He was quivering, his entire body tense under her touch. Jack drew in a tight, hurt breath. When she looked up, the most heart-wrenching sight met her eyes.

The blindfold was wet. Glittering streaks ran down Jack’s cheeks, and he was biting his beautiful lips.

It was faint. She strained to hear it, holding her breath as it ever so softly came out again.

“ . . . Please . . .” he shuddered softly. “I’ll . . .” Jack gulped a sob, “ . . . I’ll be good . . . pleaseplease!”

Rose wiped her own eyes, and tried not to let her relief show in her voice.

“Mmmmmmmmm Yes, that’s a good start, Jack. You’re learning. You get a kiss for that—“ With deliberate concentration, she slid herself up the length of his bound body and brought her mouth to his; Jack kissed her with shy eagerness, relaxing a bit.

“Mmmmmmmmm. Jack?”

“ . . . Yes?”

“Who’s in charge?”

He pouted; it was almost adorable, but Rose knew it was critical she not laugh, not make a joke of it. She waited as a moment went by.

“ . . . YOU are—“ came his admission, resigned and soft. He sniffed and the gentlest of sighs escaped his lips. Rose pressed a sudden brutal kiss to his mouth, her tongue thrusting hard over his. Startled, he resisted for a second, then opened his jaws and welcomed her oral assault.

She could taste traces of herself in his mouth, and Jack moaned. When she pulled back dizzily, his heartbeat thudded against hers.

“Going to fuck you Jack . . you ready?” she muttered against the soft sweaty skin of his throat.

“Mmmm Hmmmm . . . “ he agreed huskily. Rose reached up and took off the blindfold. Jack’s dark eyes locked on hers; Rose never shifted her gaze as she reached down between their bodies and slowly tipped her hips to take him.

One smooth thrust; both Rose and Jack groaned with pleasure. With more control than she thought she had left, Rose tightened her muscles, making Jack whimper.

“Ohfuckohfuckdon’t . . .” he warned her, face tense. Rose jammed a hand to his mouth, roughly.

“Shut up, Jack. Don’t you DARE come until I SAY you can. I’M in charge,” she reminded him. He nodded ever so slightly, and Rose smiled.

“Put ME through fucking hell, Jack, You’ve already given it up once, baby—now it’s MY turn,” Rose taunted, her hips rising slowly.

“Make me come, Jack—“ she ordered tightly. He thrust up as she pushed her hips down again, and the slick friction drew another pleasured moan from both of them.

“Yes, Jack, slow and deep, baby . . .I’m close, I’m soooo close . . .” Rose sobbed, her hands caressing his face. He turned to suck on her fingers, to nibble them as their bodies moved together in a powerful tango of raw sex. Rose licked up his tears, then threw her head back, face sweaty, hair wet, and let her climax erupt through her, the long weightless spasms rolling pleasured cries from her lips. Jack closed his eyes tightly.

“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE—“ he begged, sweat rolling down the sides of his face, his hair dark and wet. Rose sent her tongue deep into his ear.

“No more control Jack,” she panted tightly, “ . . . let it go, pump me full of come darling—“

With a deliciously rough g, he, he arched up in sheer animal response, bucking under Rose. She felt him flood her with wet heat of his seed again and again as she slumped against his chest.

They lay together, aching and tired, filled with the lightness of release. Rose found enough strength to reach up and unbuckle the straps at his wrists. Jack never noticed; he lay staring up at the ceiling, dazed and quiet.

“Babe?” Concerned, Rose tried to shift off of him, but weakly his arms came up and wrapped around her.

“Hold you . . .?” he asked, still submissive and soft, a Jack she never thought she’d see. Nodding, she draped herself over him and they slept as the candles guttered out.

Epilog

“You seem much better, Colonel. Rested, more relaxed. Have a good weekend?” Mackenzie inquired, pleased with the test results before him. Jack O’Neill managed a quirky smile, shoving his hands deep in his pockets of his jumpsuit.

“Actually I was tied up for most of it—but yeah. A good weekend.”

“Whatever it was, you ought to consider doing it more often—it seems to be helping—“ the psychologist observed. O’Neill gave a slow nod.

“I could . . . submit to that—“

END