This time their journey together through the palace had a strange sense of deja vu for Daniel. Before, he'd been more than half- terrified, almost jumping out of his skin at every sound, convinced that they would be captured at any moment. Now, Daniel felt as though he had faced some of the worst of his fears and overcome them.

Coming face to face with Maybourne once more had been the thing he had dreaded the most, but Daniel had escaped from him again with nothing more than fodder for his nightmares to come. It was as though he had conjured O'Neill up out of thin air to rescue him, when he had almost given up hope. Almost.

A small part of Daniel had been determined to survive, vowing that he wouldn't let Maybourne win whatever happened. But he had been glad not to have to put that part to the test.

As he followed O'Neill through the corridors of a palace that must be so very familiar to the Jaffa, Daniel wondered what O'Neill had thought. Whether he had been worried, whether he had felt relief on finding Daniel relatively unscathed, what he had thought when he entered the room where Daniel was being held prisoner. And what might happen between them next.

It seemed strange, but the sight of O'Neill had sent a pulse of warmth through him, despite the circumstances, reminding him of the intimacy they had shared. It had made Daniel want more than they had already experienced, so much so that the need for that lurked inside him, dark and powerful and full of seductive promises. Daniel regretted more than anything that they hadn't had the chance to share those experiences, that he had come so close to allowing Maybourne the chance to despoil that forever, and he didn't want to let that happen.

But he had no idea what O'Neill wanted from him, or whether there was any chance of something permanent growing between them. Whether they would even survive long enough to discover more than they already knew about each other. And it was that thought, more than any abstract fear of capture or torture that Daniel found pained him the most.

Daniel's bare feet slapped on the cold marble floor beside him as O'Neill led the way through corridors that he knew as well as he knew his own face. Through passageways he had travelled first as a guard and later as Ra's First Prime, all others giving way to him as he passed.

But all of that power and supremacy was a thing of the past now. That was something he had turned his back on in one moment of rebellion, spurred by the man who now accompanied him. The man who until very recently he had feared tortured or even killed by the Jaffa who had succeeded him.

The thought of Daniel in Maybourne's vengeful hands tore at him still - even though the rational part of O'Neill's mind knew that Daniel had not been harmed, that seemed to make little difference to how he felt. Daniel had been scared - O'Neill had been close enough to Daniel when he freed him to be able to smell the stink of fear on the other man's skin. That in itself was no shame, though; he would have been more surprised if Daniel hadn't reacted that way, considering his past dealings with Maybourne.

O'Neill balked at the remembered promise he had made to Daniel, that he wouldn't seek revenge on Maybourne, the tacit agreement that it wasn't his place to do so. A dark part of himself wanted to crush the life from his successor, cause the same fear to appear on Maybourne's face that had surely been seen on Daniel's. But he'd promised, albeit reluctantly, and he was a man of his word or he was nothing.

He led the way deeper into the palace, figuring that Daniel's escape must have been discovered by now, and reasoning that their pursuer's first action would be to cover every exit. That they would wait for the two of them to try and leave the palace in order to capture them then.

O'Neill had no illusions what would happen should they be captured, particularly now Maybourne held such a position of power in Ra's entourage. He would likely be tortured to death and then revived in Ra's sarcophagus, before the whole process would begin again, until Maybourne tired of it and left him crippled and blinded to beg for scraps of food outside the palace walls.

And as for Daniel? O'Neill had a suspicion that Daniel would prefer the fate that he would likely suffer, agonising as it would be, to whatever Maybourne might have in mind for him.

But that wouldn't happen, not if he had anything to do with it.

"Where are we going?" Daniel asked, speaking for the first time since they had left the room where he had been held captive. "Is this the way out of here?"

"We can't leave the palace that easily," O'Neill said, pausing at a junction to allow the two of them to catch their breath. "Maybourne will know by now that you've escaped, so he'll have posted guards at every exit. They'll expect to just be able to wait there and catch us that way."

"But we have to leave some time, O'Neill," Daniel pointed out.

"We do," O'Neill agreed. "But this palace is a maze of passages and rooms. I doubt that there is anyone still alive who knows them all. There are a multitude of places for us to lie low for as long as we need to."

Daniel stretched slightly, feeling his vertebrae pop as he did so. He ached, his legs in particular protesting at the treatment they had received - first of all when he had been chained and more recently on their flight through the palace. But how could he expect to rest now, when they needed to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as they could?

"Tired?" O'Neill asked.

Daniel glanced at him sharply, almost expecting to see mockery in the Jaffa's eyes, but instead he saw only concern. He bit back the sharp response that tiredness and waning adrenaline levels had almost inspired.

"A little," he admitted. "It's been a long day," Daniel added, with a small smile.

O'Neill nodded.

"We will rest soon," he said. "I have somewhere in mind, Daniel, a place few people in the palace know of. Somewhere we can rest undisturbed."

O'Neill led the way into a darkened section of the palace, frowning at the footprints that the two of them left behind in the slight layer of dust that marked the beginning of the passageway. They were unmistakeable, in some ways, Jaffa boots and human footprints intermingled, but there was no way to remove them without that removal serving as a sign that someone had passed this way and tried to hide the fact. All they could do was hope their pursuers did not follow.

No torches burned here, and O'Neill felt Daniel take a tentative hold of his tunic, before following him without complaint into the darkness.

He followed the twists and turns of the passageway, feeling his way along the walls, his fingertips tracing long-remembered marks. Some of which he had left here himself, as a child growing up in the palace.

When he had been younger and journeyed here, life had been an adventure, something to embrace. But that had been before O'Neill had sworn allegiance to Ra, as his father had done before him, and his life had changed completely. Before he had taken the prim'ta and effectively enslaved himself.

Now all he could hear was the sound of Daniel's breathing behind him coming harsher now as the other man tired.

"Not far," O'Neill said, needing to encourage Daniel when all his darker instincts raged at him to chastise the former slave. To shake off the hand that gripped his tunic and leave the weakling scholar here in the darkness to meet whatever fate he might.

Where were those feelings coming from? What was he afraid of, O'Neill wondered, as he realised that he was shaking slightly himself. He had known from the moment he had left the palace with Daniel the first time, the moment he had taken the information about its layout to the resistance that he had effectively signed his own life away, so wasn't it a little late now to be panicking about anything?

It seemed, somehow, that the two of them were tied together, mingled somehow at the most basic of levels. Although his instincts were telling him to leave Daniel behind, that he needed to think of his own survival, O'Neill found that he considered the idea of escaping without Daniel an abhorrent one. That life on those terms was no kind of life at all.

He didn't like this.

If it hadn't been for his tenuous grip on O'Neill's tunic, Daniel was convinced that he would have run screaming into the darkness long before now. Or maybe just cowered in the corner and waited for death to overtake him like the darkness had.

It reminded him too much of what had gone before, the fears he had tried to push to the back of his mind since he had been rescued. Though he had been isolated in darkness, blindfolded by Maybourne, he had been anything but truly alone there, trapped as he was with the nightmares that inhabited his mind.

But he trusted O'Neill, that much was one of the few certainties Daniel held onto, grasping that truth as tightly as he grasped the material of the Jaffa's tunic. Even though a part of him wondered what O'Neill thought, whether he regretted allying himself with someone who was evidently such a coward, and whether the arousal he had thought he'd seen in O'Neill's eyes back in the chamber where he had been held was real at all.

All Daniel wanted to do now was lie down somewhere and sleep for as long as he could. And he had to trust that O'Neill would take him somewhere safe, somewhere they could both rest for a while. Somewhere out of this darkness.

One last corner turned and they were back in the more inhabited parts of the palace, but a part where it was far less likely they would be discovered.

O'Neill heard the shaky sigh of relief that Daniel gave when the light began to infiltrate the corridor they were travelling, and he felt Daniel's iron grip loosen slightly. He smiled to himself - they had survived this far, they were still free, still together, and if he had anything to do with it, they would stay that way.

"In here," O'Neill said, pushing a hanging away from a doorway to allow the two of them entrance. He frowned at the amount of dust the movement of the material dislodged, his frown growing as he heard Daniel cough. He turned, just in time to see Daniel's face, then continued into the chamber as Daniel flapped a hand for him to go on.

"Is it safe?" Daniel asked, when he had stopped coughing.

"As safe as anywhere in the palace," O'Neill said. "Few people know of this place and fewer still come here, or at least it has been so for a very long time."

He busied himself with lighting a few candles, blessing the haste with which these chambers had been given up. Their light gave the room a warmer glow, the smell of the wax immediately making him relax a little, as his mind associated it with kel no reem.

"Why?" Daniel asked, turning round in a small circle to inspect what he could see of the chamber, his curiosity piqued. "This chamber is even more ornate than yours."

"It belonged to Ra's Queen," O'Neill explained, as he crossed to the heavily decorated bed and sat down, watching Daniel's eyes raking the chamber. He could feel that his face bore a small amused smile, glad as he was to see Daniel's enthusiasm begin to re-surface. "Before she tired of it and demanded another set of rooms."

"Really?" Daniel turned and saw the expression on O'Neill's face. He tried to scowl, to show his disapproval at the amusement he saw there, but it just wouldn't stay in place.

"Indeed." O'Neill shrugged off the heavy shoulderpiece of his uniform as he spoke, before lying back on the bed, heedless of the dust that movement caused.

"And what about the bed?" Daniel asked, crossing to stand over O'Neill.

"What about it?"

"Is it comfortable?"

"Very."

O'Neill took a chance and closed his eyes, even though he still listened intently to try and determine what Daniel was doing. He knew that if he continued to look at Daniel he'd remember that the other man was wearing nothing under that mastage-smelling robe and that would be the end of any rest they'd get for now.

There was silence for a moment, then the sound of rustling material. O'Neill swallowed, his mouth suddenly as dry as the desert. He knew that sound, knew exactly what it meant.

"I thought you were tired, Daniel," he said, without opening his eyes.

"And I thought I was supposed to be expressing my gratitude for a proficient rescue," Daniel countered.

Daniel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited for a response.

Had he misjudged the situation? Was O'Neill really only wanting to sleep after all? He felt his face begin to redden, as he considered the possibility that O'Neill might not want him, that he had stripped off and all but thrown himself at the Jaffa, without success.

The desire he had been feeling, the need to experience something in order to drive away the darkness, twisted inside him. It seemed to be waning fast.

Then, when the Jaffa opened his eyes finally and looked up at him, Daniel realised that he had been right all along. Despite the tiredness in his face, O'Neill's eyes were dark with arousal, the unspoken pull between them stronger than ever.

"Gratitude, Daniel?" O'Neill echoed, his voice rough. "For your rescue?"

Daniel nodded. His throat seemed to have closed up on him, making it impossible to speak, even if he had the words to say. He hoped that O'Neill understood anyway, that he realised it was more than mere gratitude that he felt, it was also sheer relief at still being alive and unharmed, all mixed and mingled with the desire he felt towards the other man. It was a heady mixture, intoxicating, too strong for Daniel to resist.

He took a hesitant half-step forward, bringing himself to the edge of the bed. O'Neill lay there, the weighty shoulderpiece of his uniform discarded nearby, the underlying mail-like material stretched tight across his chest and abdomen. Fascinated, Daniel watched it rise and fall with O'Neill's breath for a moment, before crawling forward onto the bed itself.

With each movement, Daniel felt his boldness returning, felt the heat of O'Neill's gaze as he crawled up the bed until they were face to face. It was a little awkward for him, tired as he was, and after a moment Daniel felt his arms start to tremble a little from supporting his weight.

He lowered himself until he was laying on top of O'Neill. Heated evidence of O'Neill's desire rubbed against him as Daniel pushed himself back a little, until he was kneeling over the Jaffa, and he could feel that same heat brush now against his naked ass.

"Daniel," O'Neill grated out. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He swallowed before speaking again.

Daniel's hand traced its own path to the slit in the material that allowed access to O'Neill's pouch, hearing the tiny gasp of pleasure that O'Neill made as Daniel's fingers strayed into that sensitive area. He felt movement under his hand, but managed not to react as he felt the tremors of movement from the infant Goa'uld - instead of wondering what the hell he was doing, Daniel concentrated on the shaky breaths that O'Neill was taking.

"I'm sure," Daniel replied.

O'Neill nodded at Daniel's answer, closing his eyes as Daniel's fingers strayed around the pouch once more, before they returned to the outside of his tunic. O'Neill took another breath, then opened his eyes again and reached for Daniel. Grabbing him by the arm, he pulled Daniel down to snatch a kiss, hearing the other man moan against his mouth, as he felt the answering hardness in Daniel's groin when they rubbed against each other.

Daniel pulled away slightly, his eyes wide.

"You know what I want," he said, sliding his hand down O'Neill's body once more. This time his fingers bypassed the pouch, moving down over the Jaffa's hip and across till Daniel's hand insinuated itself between the two of them.

O'Neill felt his breath catch in his throat, the trust that statement required after all that Daniel had experienced stunning him into silence for a moment. Was it just that Daniel was grateful? Did he feel an obligation to his rescuer? Or was there something more between them?

"Please," Daniel said, his hand splayed out across O'Neill's groin, fingers curling slightly. "Please." There was a desperation coming into Daniel's voice now, something that O'Neill hadn't heard before, an edge to it that worried him.

"Daniel?"

O'Neill managed to grab hold of Daniel's wrist, and used it to pull him closer, the candlelight hardly disguising the sheer anguish on Daniel's face.

"He..."

"You're safe," O'Neill said. With his free hand, he found himself stroking Daniel's thigh, as if he could rub away the emotions he saw written large on the other man's face.

The rage against Maybourne was growing inside him once more. Promise or no, Maybourne would pay for what he had done to Daniel, O'Neill decided. Daniel's face twisted slightly with the effort of keeping control, the hours of fear and worry finally taking their toll.

"Everything will be well," he said, pulling Daniel down to rest once more, so that they were face to face again. Daniel turned his head, looking a little ashamed at his reaction. "You're tired, Daniel," he continued. "Rest now."

O'Neill's hands moved onto Daniel's back, his fingers gently tracing the scars that remained from the beating Daniel had taken on the day they met. So much had happened since then, to both of them. Somehow, O'Neill knew it could well be a long night; his hands continued to stroke across Daniel's back until the other man's breathing evened out into sleep.

When he woke, he remembered everything. That was the worst of it, Daniel supposed, that everything he had done and said was recalled with such perfect clarity. Every embarrassing word and action carved into his mind like glyphs into stone, captured forever.

It was bad enough that he had practically fallen to pieces, with what must have been a delayed reaction to the terror he had experienced when he had been in the hands of Maybourne. But that O'Neill had seen it all....

Daniel sucked in a shaky breath, wondering absently why he was so warm.

It was only then that he remembered where he was, putting two and two together to realise that the weight across his back was O'Neill's arm. He froze, unsure. What might O'Neill's reaction be to him now, after he had embarrassed himself so completely in the Jaffa's presence?

Daniel opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to recognise the fact that he was lying half-draped over O'Neill, their legs twined together. O'Neill was still clothed, his face relaxed in sleep, and Daniel studied him for a moment.

He couldn't go on like this. He had to discover, Daniel decided, whether O'Neill wanted him or not, and if not then he would deal with that. This confusion was too much to bear, the chaotic emotions inside him making him wonder if he was losing his mind. He'd heard of that happening before, Daniel recalled - people who had experienced great fear losing a grip on reality in order to stay alive. Was that what was happening with him?

O'Neill shifted slightly in his sleep, muttering quietly to himself, and Daniel watched him till he settled once more.

If his dreams were troubled, that was nothing new.

O'Neill struggled towards wakefulness, his mind throwing off the remnants of the nightmare that had surrounded him, the one where he was too late in finding Daniel and had to live with the consequences of his failure.

All in all, the nightmare itself had been mild this time round. Daniel's body had not been the horrifying tapestry of blood and brokenness he might have expected to find; he'd merely hung there in his chains, all life extinguished. No reproachful words this time, no mocking questions, just darkness and silence and the end of hope.

But reality was the warmth that surrounded him, the quiet breaths Daniel took in the silence of the room they now occupied, his limbs draped across O'Neill's body - all those things were a balm to O'Neill, grounding him.

They were together, they were alive, he had been in time.

He listened to Daniel breathe for a few moments, his eyes still closed; O'Neill revelled in the closeness they currently shared and wondered what to do next.

In some ways, he'd been surprised at Daniel's acquiescence only hours before, the way in which he had agreed to sleep when all that had happened to him, as well as the things that had almost happened, had come crashing down upon him. Daniel had to have been overwhelmed by it all, that combination of fear and exhaustion weighing him down inexorably even as its razor edge had driven him to offer something extreme.

O'Neill hoped that ready agreement to sleep was a sign that Daniel trusted him, even as his own baser instincts had rebelled against the idea of not taking what Daniel was so clearly offering.

But it would have been the wrong move, an indulgence that would have created a barrier between them. Though it was clear that Daniel wanted the intimacy between them that sex would ensure, was he really ready for all that he had offered to accede to? Or was it, as O'Neill suspected, more of a reaction to what had almost happened, wanting to replace the bad memories with better ones?

O'Neill opened his eyes, only to find Daniel watching him intently, his eyes wary.

As soon as their eyes met, Daniel looked down - at that loss of contact, O'Neill felt strangely and suddenly cut adrift. Daniel shifted slightly, a prelude to moving out of their current intimate embrace, and O'Neill moved his arm across quickly, trapping Daniel where he lay.

"Stay," he said, feeling the tension of Daniel's body through his embrace.

Daniel's body was like a tightly wound cord, its tautness indicating his readiness to leave the bed, and possibly even the room, at the first opportunity he was given. After a moment O'Neill felt Daniel relax slightly, though their eyes still didn't meet. He watched Daniel's tongue flick over his lower lip, those intelligent eyes closing.

He knew that look, knew it intimately even from their short time together; this was Daniel in avoidance, convinced he had done or said something he shouldn't have. O'Neill cast his mind back over the past few hours and came to the conclusion that there was only one thing that could have caused that expression this time.

It was embarrassment over his previous actions, plain and simple.

O'Neill concentrated for a moment on the memories from a few hours before; he sifted through them, remembering the avid look on Daniel's face and pushing aside the desperate words that had accompanied it. He'd been so aroused, he'd wanted so much to just roll Daniel over and take what he offered, regardless of the consequences, but O'Neill had known that the price of that decision would be more than he was willing to pay.

But that didn't stop his imagination working eagerly on that very subject now.

The idea of Daniel stretched out below him, lean body pearled with sweat, his long fingers clutching feverishly at the material of the bed. The sounds that he'd make as O'Neill lavished attention on him, hands and mouth tracing their own paths across Daniel's skin. His fingers tracing every curve of muscle and bone, mapping Daniel like an explorer, discovering every hidden part as he prepared to experience everything Daniel had offered him, would offer him....

O'Neill felt that picture stir him, as he knew it would, and he shifted slightly, allowing the evidence of his arousal to brush against Daniel's hip. Daniel had to know that things between them weren't one-sided; for no reason he could properly explain it was suddenly of vital importance that Daniel realise O'Neill hadn't pushed him away last night because of a lack of desire. Timing was everything, and it seemed to the Jaffa as though the right time was now.

As he'd expected, Daniel's eyes snapped open at this intimate contact, and they were dark with surprise.

"I thought you..." he began, before embarrassment seemed to overtake him once more; he fell silent, looked away, face reddening a little in a way which was obvious despite the candlelight. Daniel's eyes closed then, screwed tight as if he was afraid he'd fall apart otherwise, and he began to pull away, out of O'Neill's embrace, this time in earnest.

And this time, O'Neill let him go.

He seemed to have a knack for making a complete fool of himself.

If it wasn't throwing himself at O'Neill and being rejected, now that the Jaffa wanted him, Daniel had no idea what he wanted. He pushed himself away and out of O'Neill's embrace, his hands slipping across the warm material of the Jaffa's tunic, before turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He was torn, a part of him wanting to get the hell out of there, another part desperate to stay there with O'Neill, no matter what.

The coolness of the marble floor was a momentary shock to his feet, but the suddenness of the sensation also made everything seem more real.

This was easier.

He could do this, he could talk about all of this, as long as he didn't have to see O'Neill while he was doing it, as long as he didn't have to face the sympathy and understanding he'd see in those eyes. The look Daniel knew would be there, no matter how poorly he expressed himself; the certainty of its existence was alternately a source of exhilaration and terror.

"I thought you didn't want me."

Daniel would have been proud of himself, proud of the sureness of his voice, if he hadn't been so conscious that he was poised on a knife edge. This could go either way, destroying what already stood between them as surely as Maybourne would have destroyed him, had he been given the time. At least now Daniel felt that he was starting to understand himself a little, even if the vehemence of his own feelings surprised him.

This wasn't about gratitude, appreciation of rescue, or obligation of any kind, as much as he experienced all of those emotions and more. All those had been twined so tightly with the desire that he had felt, that he still felt, that it was impossible to pick them apart.

Now, adrenaline rush long past, exhaustion and fear a memory, desire was still there, like a banked-down fire. All it needed was the opportunity to burn again, to be stirred up once more, and Daniel was sure that it would consume him, devour him utterly, along with anything he touched.

The words he'd spoken sounded absurdly normal to Daniel's ears, his voice almost composed, as if this was the kind of conversation he had every day.

"Last night was about you being afraid, Daniel. More than anything else."

Those quietly-spoken words should probably have made him angry, angry enough to turn on O'Neill and shout at him, desperate to deny to both of them that he had ever been that scared. But Daniel couldn't do it, he couldn't lie like that.

And what would be the point anyway?

O'Neill had seen him, he'd heard him; he had to know the truth about how things had been, no matter how much Daniel might deny it now.

"All I could think about was what almost happened," Daniel said. As he spoke he fixed his eyes on a set of hieroglyphs on the wall opposite; Daniel forced his reluctant mind to try and make sense of them, all the while wondering if he could ever find the courage to look O'Neill in the eye again.

Knowing himself better didn't stop Daniel feeling embarrassed at what he'd almost done the night before. He'd almost made a mistake, done something he would have regretted, something whose consequences he was sure he would have struggled to live with. How O'Neill had stopped himself from taking Daniel up on his offer, how he had seen past the offer itself and straight to the motivation behind it all, was something of a mystery. But the guess he'd made, if guess it was, had been an accurate one.

Daniel felt the bed dip slightly behind him, heard the slither and rustle of fabric across fabric, felt the warmth of O'Neill's body as the Jaffa moved across to where he was sitting. He was there, close behind where Daniel sat, but still not touching him.

"I thought for just that moment that it would make everything right," Daniel continued. "That it would finally tell me what I want. What you want."

"It would have been a mistake, Daniel," O'Neill said. His voice was barely a whisper, but Daniel heard it anyway. He felt himself shudder, as if his fate had somehow been sealed by those few words, as if judgement had been passed on him, but still he needed to know.

"And what about now?"

Was that really him speaking? The words seemed to come of their own accord, slipping out of Daniel's mouth and into existence before he could think about them.

He managed not to flinch when O'Neill touched him, the most tentative brush of fingers across his bare shoulder, a delicate touch that curved across his skin, following a looping path that had to follow one of his scars. Daniel considered that for a moment, wondering how O'Neill could find them so fascinating, when all they held for him were bad memories. Things he wanted more than anything to bury in some deserted corner of his mind. He was marble, suddenly, motionless under O'Neill's hand, frozen in the moment.

"Now?" the Jaffa echoed, his voice husky.

Daniel nodded; words choked him, forcing him into silence. He felt breath move across his skin, warmth and wetness trailing across his back in the wake of O'Neill's fingers. Daniel forced himself to remain still, treasuring the moment, capturing it, focussed on the sensations.

"What about now?" O'Neill continued, the echoed words a mutter against Daniel's skin, the Jaffa's teasing breaths their only punctuation.

How could Daniel still be so uncertain?

The mere thought of Daniel before, at Maybourne's mercy, and now here, with him, made O'Neill want to reassure him, convince him. Despite everything they'd experienced together, it was clear that Daniel was still unsure about how matters stood between them, and that was an enemy that needed to be overthrown. War needed to be waged against it until Daniel was convinced and his doubts defeated.

It was torture to go so slowly but the memory of Daniel's distraught face from the night before was enough to stay his hand. It made O'Neill determined to take all the care he needed, all the care Daniel needed.

He could feel Daniel trembling slightly, despite the lightness of his touch, and O'Neill wondered at his silence.

"Daniel?" O'Neill pulled back, the fingers that had been tracing the lines across Daniel's back moving to his shoulder, resting there rather than turning him.

Daniel took a deep breath, then let it out in one shuddering gasp, before turning his head slightly so that their eyes met.

"You want me."

The words fell into the silence between them, surprising Daniel with their simplicity even as they left his mouth, as well as all the things far more difficult to express held within those few syllables.

"What gave it away?" O'Neill asked, smiling, and Daniel felt himself respond without a second thought.

His hands had been gripping the material as it curved over the edge of the bed, gripping it hard, and it took a moment before he could release his hold, sliding one hand back behind him. It was awkward, but the grip O'Neill had on his shoulders seemed to anchor him to the planet, and he didn't want to lose it.

He felt his fingers encounter warmth, trailing over the muscle of O'Neill's legs, the roughness of the material encasing them slowing his progress. Daniel let his hand trail across the greater heat he found, smiling as O'Neill shifted slightly in response to his touch.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, smiling. "It was just a wild stab in the dark."

Slowly, Daniel turned, bringing his feet up as he swung round. He felt the bed dip as O'Neill went with him, shuffling back across the bed to allow the movement, to give Daniel space to join him there. All he could see was the Jaffa's face; their eyes were locked as if looking away would shatter everything between them, destroying forever this one perfect moment.

He was over O'Neill now, their positions identical to the night before, but this time there was something else. Something missing. The desperation Daniel had felt then was long past, replaced by a certainty that surprised him more than he could express.

He looked down at O'Neill, sliding his hands under the tunic the Jaffa wore, pushing the material up towards his chest. The pouch lay exposed, and Daniel trailed one hand over it, gently, smiling to himself at the hiss of breath when his fingers contacted the sensitive edges. That was one response he planned to investigate thoroughly in the future.

Before he could push the material any higher, Daniel found his wrists held. In one swift movement their positions were reversed O'Neill was looming over him now, his eyes dark with promise and intent. He let go of Daniel's wrists as soon as Daniel's back hit the bed, pulling his tunic off with one swift movement and discarding it, then lifting his weight slightly off Daniel. One further movement, hands pulling at fabric, and O'Neill was naked, heat pressed against heat, leaning forward once more.

Daniel felt his resolution start to waver a little as the reality of his position sank in. He wondered if some of that made it to his face, when he saw O'Neill frown.

"If you're not sure about this," O'Neill began, shifting backwards slightly.

Daniel reached out and captured one of O'Neill's hands, pulling it from where it lay flat on the bed and moving it till it rested on Daniel's stomach. He urged it downwards then, rolling his hips slightly as he did so.

"I'm sure," he replied, gasping slightly as O'Neill obeyed his urging and long knowing fingers wrapped themselves around him.

Daniel's stomach had been warm beneath his hand, the skin as soft as he'd remembered. What Daniel had urged him to grasp then had been warmer still, as if all of Daniel's long-buried passion was now coming to the surface, burning away all the barriers that had stood between them.

O'Neill paused, hand stilling, just looking down at Daniel for a long moment, adding this image to the ones from the night before.

Daniel was sprawled on the bed beneath him, one hand still resting loosely over O'Neill's where it grasped him, the other clutching the material of the bed cover spasmodically. His eyes were closed, a tiny frown of concentration wrinkling his brow. Experimentally, O'Neill tightened his grasp a little, moving his hand, and was rewarded by an almost inaudible gasp.

He smiled to himself. No uncertainty where Daniel was concerned now, it seemed. Nothing but trust and desire. Suddenly, all O'Neill wanted was to see that, to know it for the truth it was, and for that he needed Daniel to open his eyes. Now.

"Daniel." After a long moment, Daniel's eyes opened, as slowly as if he was awakening from sleep. They took a moment to focus on him, but they were dark with desire, deep with the longing that O'Neill had known he would see there. "I wanted you to remember who's here with you," he continued, the pad of his thumb rubbing slightly across the underside of Daniel's erection as he spoke.

"I..." The words Daniel meant to say were lost in a moan as sensation hit. He bucked slightly under O'Neill's weight.

O'Neill eased up onto his knees, his hand still trapped under Daniel's hand, on Daniel's cock. His other hand slipped from the bed, till it was resting on Daniel's hip, fingers splayed across the warm skin of Daniel's flank.

"Please..." Daniel's eyes had closed once more, and the slightest touch of O'Neill's hand seemed enough to make Daniel's words draw out, their syllables mixed with sounds that were both rough and needy.

O'Neill slid his hand downwards, slipping it between Daniel and the bed, before moving upwards a little till his hand was resting under Daniel's back. He could feel the muscles tensing there, even as he urged Daniel over, smiling at the lack of resistance. If he'd ever thought Daniel didn't want this, want him, he was under no such illusion now.

As Daniel rolled over, slowly, a little less coordinated than usual, O'Neill moved with him. He let go reluctantly, his hands moving to Daniel's hips to help him into the right position.

Daniel was on his hands and knees now, and suddenly O'Neill realised how dry his mouth was. The level of trust necessary for Daniel to do this overwhelmed him and for a moment all he could do was look, feeling his own erection rise as he studied the perfection before him. Daniel glanced over his shoulder a little uncertainly, as if wondering why O'Neill didn't touch him, and the Jaffa found himself smiling slightly.

The first touch was a slow caress, one hand sliding across the skin of Daniel's ass, all in preparation for moving to take hold of his erection once more. Daniel hung his head, his breath hissing through his teeth, as O'Neill's hand met his heated flesh once more.

"Please, O'Neill..." Daniel repeated, grating out the words. "Something. Please."

"Shhh." It was like gentling a wild creature. As O'Neill's other hand came to rest on Daniel's back, he could feel the tiny tremors going through Daniel's body. "It's okay."

The urge was there once more, the urge to take, not to pause, not to wait till Daniel was prepared, till Daniel was ready in all the ways that were important. O'Neill bit his lip, biting that urge back, even as his other hand moved on Daniel's erection. Moisture was gathering at its head now, O'Neill could feel the nearness in Daniel's body, feel the tension under his hand as it lay on Daniel's back.

Moving closer, he reached round, gathering some of the pre-come with his fingers, before leaning back slightly and slipping them between the cheeks of Daniel's ass. They slipped across where he wanted them to go and Daniel reacted a little, clearly torn between paying attention to that and the almost-overwhelming sensation of O'Neill's hand on his cock.

O'Neill prepared him as quickly and thoroughly as he could, his fingers stretching and scissoring, all the while keeping Daniel distracted, bringing him to the edge of orgasm and then pulling him back from the brink. Daniel's breathing was harsher now, shuddering gasps interspersed with what O'Neill thought were curses. He expected no less as a result of what he was doing to Daniel, but if he didn't want Daniel to have the opportunity to panic - there was no other way O'Neill could think of that would have distracted him half as well as this.

When his hand slipped from Daniel's erection, fingers skating across the thin skin of his pelvis to come to rest on Daniel's hip, O'Neill clearly heard him curse, a guttural set of words that cast doubt on the Jaffa's parentage. O'Neill smiled to himself, his fingers finishing their work, his other hand moving to rest on Daniel's other hip.

Soon, if he had anything to do with it, Daniel would have no breath left for cursing.

He wondered if he should have been more nervous than he was, considering what he was getting himself into. But the only emotion Daniel felt now was desire, each wave of it rolling over him like clouds sweeping across the sky. He wanted O'Neill in him, wanted it though he had no idea how it might be, wanted it though the intensity of his wanting was enough to make him wonder how he might survive the experience.

He couldn't imagine trusting anyone as much as he trusted O'Neill at this moment, exposing so much of himself, his needs, to anyone else. It wasn't just a physical thing, it was something more, something that he hoped would bind them together, something that he hoped O'Neill shared.

Daniel knew that he should consider the future, that he should think about what might happen to them in the days that were to come, but all that mattered to him now was what was happening in this room. The touch of O'Neill's hand on his skin, the experience that he was anticipating sharing with O'Neill, that was all that amounted to anything for Daniel right now.

"Please."

Had that been his voice, so needy? Daniel was more than a little surprised he could still speak, that the sounds that issued from his mouth made any sense at all, when he felt as though he could shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment.

He felt O'Neill's hands resting on his hips, fingers caressing the thin skin across his pelvis. But it wasn't enough. He needed more. Then there was a pressure, pushing against where those talented fingers had been, and Daniel forgot about anything else.

The sensation was almost overwhelming, an odd mix of pain and pleasure; suddenly Daniel was glad for all the care O'Neill had taken in preparing him, stretching him, though truly nothing could have prepared him for this.

O'Neill had never thought that he would appreciate all the things he'd learned from Jaffa training as much as he did at this moment. Those long hours of guard duty, before he had been elevated to his former position of First Prime, had taught him infinite patience, and he was currently using every ounce of it with Daniel.

It was everything he had expected and more, and he longed to push, to take what Daniel offered, but knew that would be a bad idea. So he went slowly, though it was torture to do so, though every muscle in his back seemed to be quivering with the tension of holding himself back that way.

"Please..." Daniel's voice, and the quiver in it when he spoke, seemed to wrap itself round O'Neill, echoing up through their closeness.

Sooner than he'd expected, considering the care he'd taken, O'Neill found himself wrapped around Daniel, inside Daniel too, almost as if they shared one skin. Daniel was warm and silken on the outside, each rasping breath seeming to echo in O'Neill's ears; inside, Daniel was like fire. O'Neill was forced to take a couple of breaths, nuzzling the back of Daniel's neck in reassurance at his stillness, before he could begin to move.

He'd done this before, of course, but it had been a while. Even then, it had never been with anyone he cared about - O'Neill had never allowed himself to be fooled into believing that his favours were sought for anything other than hope of advancement. So he had always got what he wanted from them, not caring if he met their needs as long as his own were sated.

Daniel was a different proposition altogether, O'Neill realised, as he began to move. He had taken his time to prepare him, and now he wanted this to be a memorable experience for him, one that he would want to repeat rather than one he looked back on in dismay.

In fact, it was his intention to make this experience so memorable, using everything he'd ever learned from a lifetime of sharing such pleasures, that Daniel would be desperate to share this experience again.

Pulling back, feeling Daniel shift his weight backwards in an attempt to keep him enveloped, O'Neill began to thrust, angling each movement towards the place he knew would give Daniel the most pleasure.

The first moan ripped from Daniel's throat as if he was reluctant to let himself be heard. Or was it that he was a little embarrassed at the strength of what he was feeling? O'Neill smiled to himself and continued to move, searching for the perfect angle to make Daniel react once more.

They were moving in harmony soon, Daniel's hips moving backwards as O'Neill thrust, his own gasped breaths practically indistinguishable from Daniel's moans of pleasure. He could feel himself racing towards the edge, his rhythm beginning to falter a little, and that knowledge of his own closeness was all it took.

Completion left O'Neill draped over Daniel's back, his hand slipping round in search of evidence that Daniel was sated too, before the two of them knew only silence and sleep.

It was strange waking up to find someone draped round him. Daniel moved a little, as though he was testing the security of that embrace, feeling an ache in unexpected places. It should feel stranger than it did, he supposed, being this close to O'Neill, but all that he felt from the closeness was comfort. That, and a desperate sense of being wanted.

Daniel closed his eyes and tried to rest once more, but found he was too conscious of the proximity of another body to slip into sleep that easily. All those years of hiding what he knew, of being aware that he was somehow different because of what he'd learned, that dangerous knowledge, had meant that he rarely slept for long. It was a habit that had saved his life on more than one occasion.

O'Neill's breath was warm on his neck, an unexpected pleasure after a night of sensations he had never experienced before. As he had softened, that most intimate of embraces had slipped away, and Daniel wondered for a moment if they were still connected. He felt it, anyway, even stronger than before. He wondered if O'Neill felt the same.

He had to have done this with other men, but that was something he didn't want to think about - of course, the moment that Daniel had pondered that possibility, the idea began to fester in his mind. Had O'Neill felt that he had to do this, to somehow tie Daniel to him? As much as he wanted to think that the Jaffa's motives had been honest ones, how could he be sure?

He sighed, frowning to himself as O'Neill muttered and moved in his sleep, his embrace tightening fractionally as he did so. As if he was checking that Daniel was still there, with him.

Daniel tried to relax, but his mind continued to work, churning its way through images. O'Neill and men. O'Neill and women. Giving and receiving pleasure, holding others as closely as he was holding Daniel now.

He felt nauseous, just the thought that he was the latest in a long line of conquests was enough to make Daniel want to retch. He was close to struggling from O'Neill's embrace, pulling free of his arms and running from the chamber, heedless of the danger.

"Daniel?" O'Neill's voice, a muttered whisper, made his mind grind to a shuddering halt, and he felt himself stiffen slightly. "Go to sleep. Please."

That plea was enough, the simplest of words ripping through the images he had created and reminding him of why he had allowed what had just happened between them. Now, instead of O'Neill and others, faceless strangers receiving pleasure at his hands, Daniel remembered the look he had seen on the Jaffa's face just hours before. The care O'Neill had taken, the desire that had been in his eyes.

Foolishness. Foolishness and jealousy, that was all it was. What did it matter what O'Neill had done in the past? It wasn't as if he had been completely innocent himself, after all. They were here now, together, and that was what was important. All such thoughts could do would be to drive a wedge between them, and at the moment Daniel could think of nothing worse.

"I said 'sleep', Daniel," O'Neill muttered, the words mere breath against Daniel's neck. Closing his eyes, Daniel made himself relax, attempting to follow where the Jaffa led.

He had missed this kind of closeness, O'Neill decided, as he surfaced from sleep. It was something he had experienced only rarely with his wife, and it wasn't till now that O'Neill realised how much he had missed that simple human contact. He was wrapped round Daniel still, but it didn't take much to determine that Daniel was awake, doubtless worrying about something or other.

It was true that their current circumstances weren't good - it had been a while since either of them had eaten, and O'Neill intended to remedy that as soon as he could, but they also needed to rest. Which, for Daniel, meant not thinking about everything and worrying over it like a dog with a rat.

At the end of the day, that would do neither of them any good.

He had already asked Daniel to go to sleep once, the second time he felt Daniel actually relax, and he listened to the way his breath evened out after a few more moments. Did he even want to know what Daniel's over-active brain had been working on? If he had been leaping to any conclusions, particularly anything about the two of them, O'Neill decided he could wait to find out and deal with it all then.

After all, it wasn't as if Daniel was all that good at keeping secrets.

The next time Daniel woke, O'Neill was already moving, sliding off the bed and then attempting to reconstruct his Jaffa uniform from the scattered pieces of it around the bed.

Daniel gathered the bedcover around himself, suddenly feeling self- conscious, as he watched O'Neill pull on his tunic, then settled onto the side of the bed to pull his boots back on.

"Stay here," O'Neill said, standing up. Daniel nodded, feeling all the worries of the night before creeping up on him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

O'Neill hesitated then, as if he could feel Daniel's eyes on him, then turned back to where Daniel was still sitting.

"Go. It's fine," Daniel said.

His voice didn't shake, and Daniel was proud of himself for exercising that level of control, despite the turmoil he was feeling.

O'Neill continued to look at him, clearly unconvinced by what Daniel had said. They locked gazes for a moment, and Daniel was the first to look away, scowling down at his hands where they clenched the bedcover tightly.

He felt the bed dip slightly and looked up, pulling back slightly when he found himself face to face with O'Neill. The Jaffa's eyes were dark with desire, and Daniel felt something inside himself lurch at that realisation - he had been wrong then, what they had done did mean something to O'Neill. And then he found himself closer, as the Jaffa slipped a hand behind his head and pulled him close for a moment, before backing off one lingering kiss later.

"Try and get some more sleep," O'Neill said, pushing himself off the bed. "Everything will be fine."

Somehow he'd known that would be Daniel's reaction. How he had realised that, O'Neill wasn't sure, all he could think was that he was getting to know how Daniel's mind worked, and it had been a certainty that he would wake up unsure.

He'd tried to alleviate that by kissing him, or at least lessen the amount of panic that Daniel might be going through, but their need for food was so great he couldn't hang around long enough to make Daniel feel any more confident.

Once he had brought them some food, there would be time enough to make Daniel's worries disappear. In fact, he was looking forward to that prospect immensely. For some reason, that was a project that filled him with great interest, and it was clearly something to which he would have to dedicate a significant chunk of his time and energy for the foreseeable future.

But first things first. Food, that was the priority.

The jealousy he'd felt was ebbing fast, Daniel realised, as he settled down in the bed once more, pulling the bedcover close around him. And in its place was a growing annoyance with himself. What was he thinking, acting like some lovestruck idiot? The fact that O'Neill had clearly expected him to be uncertain about what had happened didn't reassure as much as it probably should - it rankled with Daniel instead.

Despite his attempts to try and wrap his mind round the situation, Daniel found that his attention kept drifting. His thoughts were with the Jaffa, wondering if he was safe travelling the corridors of the palace in the way he was, if the risks he was taking to get them food were acceptable ones.

But what choice did they have? The alternative was to try and escape, thus falling into the hands of Maybourne, or stay here and wait for an opportunity to do so more safely. Not much of a decision, really.

He was asleep before he knew it.