AN: Hi all, been a while hasn't it? Anyhoo this is my latest offering to the alter of DVness.
Anyone who read "and the beat goes on" and liked my Daniel from that is going to (hopefully) really like this. It's probably OOC because come on, can you see Daniel doing this? I think not. But the idea got into my head and wouldn't let go, "Write Dark!Daniel" the muse cried and seeing as it hadn't said anything for months I thought I better listen. It's relatively short but hope it satisfies.
Hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think!
He doesn't know how they ended up here, in this crowded underground nightclub on an unnamed alien world. From the moment they had arrived he had wanted to leave but Cam had just shrugged and said "Come on, it'll be fun." ignoring his protests. Now he has no clue where the rest of his team are, they had disappeared into the crowded mass of bodies over an hour ago and apart from a brief glimpse of Sam's blond head he's seen no trace of them since.
He's sitting deep in the corner of a small both, shrouded in darkness and smoke. The electronic beat of the music reverberates in his chest and the strobe lights on the dance floor make his vision swim. The alcohol he's consumed does nothing to ease his mood, quite the opposite in fact, as he sips from the small glass he feels his mood darken. This wasn't why they where out here. There was the Ori to fight, a war raging in the stars above them, this 'mission' wasn't helping anyone. His irritation turns to anger, seething hot in the pit of his stomach, mixing with the alcohol till it burns in his chest like fire.
There's a momentary flash of light that illuminates the massive dance floor and suddenly he feels his anger darken and become tinged with a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time.
His eyes follow the object of his feelings as he watches her flushed flesh press close against that of the dancers around her, even from this distance he can see the sheen of sweat the covers her. The fire in his chest flows south as he takes in the outfit, if it can be called that, that clings to her skin. Her 'emergency' leathers that she keeps in her pack have undergone a severe alteration because he knows for a fact he would never have allowed her to carry, much less ware, such a scandalous outfit.
She's barefoot, as are all the others on the dance floor, and his eyes sweep up the enticing curve of her ankle to the seemingly endless stretch of her legs. Calf gives way to knee and suddenly he's looking at the glorious expanse of her thighs, supple and toned, feminine yet powerful. Her black skirt is short, oh gods it's so short, and clings so perfectly to her hips and ass he wonders how she got it on. Black leather gives way again to the pale skin of her back, the graceful curve of her spine and then black hair that he longs to run his fingers through, longs to grasp tightly as he pulls her towards him.
Hair and back and hips all move to the music, the pounding beat he can no longer differentiate from his own heart beat, and he sees dark tanned hand of another man snake its way around her, pulling her close to a man that he cannot see, a man that is not him. Her shoulders shake and he knows she's laughing, knows exactly how her eyes must be lighting up and the new curve her lips will have taken on to accommodate her smile.
Dark jealousy causes him to tighten his hold on his glass as he sees hands descend to her hips. Those mysterious hand move once again, cupping her ass, and before he knows it his own hands have moved to remove his boots and he's crossing the distance between them.
Sweaty bodies press against him as people dance all around him but all he sees, all he knows, is her. He pushes his way through the crowd until he is behind her, so close he can smell the cinnamon shampoo she uses, so close he can see the mystery man she dances with. He growls deep in his chest and possessively slides his hands around her, his head coming in close to her ear as he pulls her from the unknown man into his own tight embrace.
The man, a young Jaffa, lets his hands fall away from her as he turns and disappears back into the boiling mass of people, the look on his face had been enough of a warning. "MINE!" the look had screamed and no one was going to argue with it.
His arm snakes up her taught stomach and he can feel the ragged edge of her top where she's cut the leather just below her breasts. His other hand wraps around her hips and violently pulls her closer to him when he realises she has nothing on under her top, his fingers brushing the underside of her breasts causing her to shiver delightfully.
For moments uncounted they stay like that, dancing, grinding, to the music. Anonymous people in an unknown club on an unnamed planet. Everything else falls away as the music takes over and he feels her move against him in a way that could never happen anywhere else.
He's not sure who's hands do it but his black t-shirt is thrown from his body and he's pressing his chest against her back. Flesh against flesh, a fire rages between them, uncontrollable and unstoppable. Her hair grows damp with sweat against his chest and her stomach trembles as his hands roam her body, claiming her, possessing her, driving her movements on as he manipulates her body.
A moan escapes her as he growls low in her ear, his face buried deep in her hair, seeking that sweet spot where her shoulder meets her neck. He feels her chest rise as she struggles to take in air, her pulse beating wildly as his tongue follows the path of a bead of sweat down her neck. He knows he shouldn't, that this new urge could be the undoing of it all but he cannot restrain himself, everything within him screams that he must claim her as his own, that he must leave his mark on her. Lips softly caress that sweet spot and then she's pushing back against him, her whole body tensing and relaxing at the same time, as his teeth bite into her.
It's over in a moment and then he's frantically kissing, suckling, licking, the spot on her perfect skin that he's marred. Her head tilts back to allow him more access and possessive pride swells within him, she is his.
And she loves it.
No words pass between them and she does not once turn to face him , both know that this is the only way it can be.
They can't be Daniel and Vala here. To be Daniel and Vala is to be an equilibrium, they are give and they are take. It is to be each others greatest strength and weakness. It is to insult, love, annoy, protect, irritate, and cherish. To be Vala and Daniel is to argue and snipe and battle endlessly for dominance.
They cannot be Daniel and Vala in this place.
That's the point.