Like Water, Lying by Synecdochic (NC-17)

[dkwilliams.livejournal.com]

Rec Category: BDSM
Pairing: Jack O'Neill/Daniel Jackson/Cameron Mitchell
Category: BDSM
Warning: BDSM, Threesome
Author on LJ: synecdochic
Author's Website: http://www.kekkai.org/synecdochic/
Link: http://synecdochic.livejournal.com/72137.html

Why This Must Be Read:
This is a breathtaking story, one that is written so incredibly well that you spend the entire story in the headspace of Cameron Mitchell and you don't know what the hell is going to happen next. I love that. I love everything about this story. I love the way she shows Cameron getting into his subspace, getting ready to play games, and then plunges him into an icy cold stream of panic and dismay. And you're there with him, having no idea what is going on, whether Cameron's life has just been royally screwed or if he's about to get the treat of his life. And it continues, and you're never entirely sure of what the hell is going on, just like Cameron, and it's perfect. And then when you do get there, when you get what's happening, wow. It's just... Wow. But my favorite, favorite part is the next morning, when Jack is sort of explaining things to Cameron in his own way. That just ties the whole thing together, brings the story around full circle, and it's sad in a way and sweet, and damn, I wish that someone knew me as well as Jack knows Daniel.

While this is technically part of a series of stories, it can definitely stand on its own and you don't have to read the first one to get what is going on.


The kitchen lights are off, but there's enough light spilling in from the living room that he doesn't stub his toe. Jackson's sitting in the overstuffed chair, his back half to the door. All Cam can see is his profile and one hand, raised to make a point, beer bottle circling in midair. There's a throwrug down on the floor, which means Jackson wants him to kneel. Cam's just fucking fine with that; he can already anticipate feel the burn in his thighs, the itch in his feet, the struggle to keep his shoulders high and his spine straight and his head bowed down, waiting, waiting. God, he never knew. He could have been doing this years ago.

And then he freezes, in the doorway, because the TV isn't on and Jackson's not talking back to it.

There's someone else in the room.