Singing
Author: wanderingsmith
Jan 2009
Summary: Broca 1x04 moved to post-Grace 7x13
Rating: adult (NC17) themes
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me
for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I
play with 'em.
AN: I was supposed to get my a** off this computer.. I'd like to
blame someone.. but I think it's my own damn fault. sigh
She briefly wished that she'd moved before he covered the skin that
had
captured all of her senses; the sight of power, the scent of
*Jack*. But regret had no purpose, especially when it could so
easily be
remedied.
Sam closed the last of the distance between them with a powerful pull
on his
unresisting shoulders, her open lips and tongue demanding access to
his. This was
her mate and she was in need, rejection did not occur to her.
Jack couldn't hold back a moan, for a minute taken too much by
surprise to even *think* of resisting something he'd spent the last
seven years
dreaming about; *needing*. His eyes slid shut as the heat of her
body came
into scorching contact with his, tank top and t-shirt be damned.
Soft breasts he'd spent way too much time ogling crushed into his
chest as her hands flowed roughly over his shoulders and back while his
arms windmilled, the need for balance almost forgotten under the hunger
he
felt through her lips, the hunger deep inside him that was throwing off
shackles and reaching to overrun him, overrun any thoughts...
When her hands slid under his shirt and touched his bare skin he
shivered, his brain kick-starting itself with a struggle. For
some reason, it
had never occurred to him to imagine anything so wild, but *damn* it
felt good. His fingers were tightly curled in Samantha's hair,
their lips and
teeth and tongues literally fighting for dominance. When she dug
the
nails of one hand into his nape, the pain made the faint instinctive
voice
of 'something's wrong' crystallize and he found the will to jerk out of
her very tight grip enough to mutter "Samantha? What-"
Though
with
nowhere near enough authority.
"I want you," she gritted the words out, angry at the interruption,
resettling
her hand on the top of his spine and forcing him back against her;
where he *belonged*! She *needed* to taste him, needed to breathe
him; he should know that.
'Want you.' Jack had to force himself away right then and there
or those words would drive him to something he was getting very much
afraid she would regret; and hate him for. "*Carter*! This is out
of li- oomf!" He lost his breath when she pulled him off balance
and
slammed him onto the bench in front of his locker.
Sam listened to her mate's gasp with pleasure -he was *hers*, to do
with
as she would!-. Grinding her sex into his crotch, she showed her
teeth in
a satisfied grin at his aroused state; yes, *hers*! She'd watched
him barely wince from her playful treatment, aroused by the warrior she
claimed; seeing her ID tags swing by his mouth, visual poof of his
belonging to her, she growled, tired of his teasing, "Don't you want
me?" She leaned back down, recapturing him, pressing her swollen
nipples against his
muscled chest for relief from the burning need coursing through her;
she *needed*-
"Yes!" Shit! Jack moved his head sideways, swearing at his verbal slip
into dangerous honesty, trying to get his mouth clear,
feeling his mind getting downright dizzy with the sexual need that
Samantha
was riling up madly. But the absolute certainty that he had to
fight *this*, of all damned- "I mean, no!" The words were still
mumbled against the lips sliding over his, biting and suckling and
driving him crazy. "For crying out-" Obviously getting annoyed, she
growled again against him -Carter+growling = trouble; why oh *why*
couldn't they ever kiss without work interfering??-. Her
hands took a grip on his head to try to hold him for her kiss as she
rocked on his cock, making him cry out into her mouth at the blast of
pleasure ratcheting through him.
Fuck! That was it, another second of this and- It took
every damned bit of his trained control to make himself grab her
shoulders, swing his leg around her thigh, and use his whole body to
throw her off him
and onto the floor.
Sam cried out as his weight landed on her, pleasure sparkling
through her. Yes! Finally! He growled in response to
her cry and
she automatically exposed her neck, eager for his possession.
He had to get her to the infirmary, had to- Jack was bending over
without thought, unable to resist; closing his mouth on Samantha's
offered neck, her pulse wild under
his bottom lip as he gently bit the cartilage next to it. He
groaned, violently making himself pull away from the taste, his whole
body at war,
wanting, *needing* to take this woman, never mind his mind yelling that
something was bloody damned wrong if he was even *thinking* of hurting
Samantha, even if it was just with a love bite.
##
Lying in the infirmary waiting for Janet to declare her cured, Sam was
trying to assimilate this latest batch of strange memories before they
faded. Damn, my imagination is pitiful, she thought
ruefully. If her imaginary Jack had kissed her like that... she
shivered with pleasure again at the remembered feeling of teeth closing
on her neck
as he *growled*(!)... She was lost in the memory and fingering
the still-sore spot when Janet
walked in and smirked.
"*He* still looks like a man who's been *thoroughly* kissed." The
doctor's
tone was bland, but that didn't take any of the amusement
out of the words.
Sam groaned, closing her eyes as Janet took a last blood pressure
reading, "Great. *More* damned rumours. "
"Oh yes. After you were wheeled by his cell on the way to
surgery, it was only thanks to Teal'c that we were able to
control him. Four SFs on the floor and it still took another
two with Teal'c for me to get the anaesthetic in him. I
made
everyone start carrying tranq-guns after that." She looked at
Sam's open-mouthed shock, deciding she should have the whole story if
she was going to deal with the results. "Yes, there's going to be
a fresh set of
rumours. One of the last words that were recognizable out of his
mouth was your name, your first name. Screamed in fury when you
were attacked," she frowned, "Don't ask me how he *knew* you were under
attack..."
Sam swore softly, aware of the sampling needle smoothly sliding into
her elbow, "I remember my hearing was pretty sharp. All my senses
felt hyper, every feeling too powerful to resist..."
Patting Sam's arm comfortingly, Janet helped her up, "Hey, I'm just
glad we
somehow avoided anyone being raped, maimed or killed. With a base
full of soldiers who definitely don't all get along, not to mention a
few scientists who couldn't protect themselves from a 5 year-old Jaffa,
it was pretty damned terrifying to wonder what would happen when the
balance between affected and healthy passed the point where we could
catch and sedate the ones who changed before they did damage."
Sam looked at her friend, feeling guilty for her petty concerns when
things could have been so much worse. A few more rumours was just
a temporary annoyance; in the long-term there were already so many out
there that it hardly mattered. And as for their relationship..
she grimaced as she left the infirmary, they'd worked their way through
more than one of these slips before. She shook her head, refusing
to analyze it right now; she was going home, more interested in getting
away from the knowing grins than in burying herself in work. She
really hated being the first one down with a bug. Everyone else
got to remember every embarrassing detail of her fall while she didn't
have any of *them* to mollify herself.
She was in the mood for a few hours of Die hard; just mindless action
and
explosions that would end well and that she could lose herself
in. Giving her mind the time to bury all the conflicted emotions
that the virus had dug up and left behind in a jumbled pile, mixed in
with just too many fresh and powerful memories of sexual pleasure and
need for her to easily forget or deny any of it. She wasn't even
sure she wanted to forget; when was the last time she'd felt that
alive? The last time she'd felt that connected to another human
being?
##
By the time she woke from a torrid dream that left her soaked in sweat
and dripping with need, Sam was utterly convinced that going on a
*date*, let along a blind date with some cop friend of her brother's,
was, at very best, a waste of time.
Calling the number Mark had given her and cancelling with an
uncharacteristically blunt 'I realized I'm taken', Sam had a brief
chill as she remembered how mixed up she'd still been two days ago from
her stay on the
Prometheus. She was planning to give that guy every damned
chance.. she winced, trying to shake off the feeling of having
escaped an invisible, self-tied noose.
She decided to drive the bike in, rejoicing at feeling the freedom so
much more completely than she had for what seemed like years. She
was grinning under her helmet as she floored the gas. Just for a
minute on a flat stretch, feeling her body and mind both opening wide
to sensation; taking a deep, satisfying breath in spite of the
acceleration force acting on her lungs. The weight of the
universe was just a little easier to bear, her perspective not nearly
so fogged with angst. She felt young again,
full of hope for the future, however distant it might be.
##
Apologizing to Daniel had been simpler than he'd expected, his old
buddy had been way too smiley as he'd stared at Jack's lips, even with
the wince-worthy cuts and
bruises on his face. Getting just a little uncomfortable, the
colonel had
backed away with a forcibly casual, "Okay then, glad we
cleared that up."
Teal'c had shrugged off his thanks for lending his muscles to keeping
him from hurting more people without a word. Though Jack had a
very bad feeling he'd caught the bare hint of a smirk on the Jaffa's
face. He was torn between wanting to see the tapes of the last
few days for himself so he would know once and for all how bad it was..
and.. definitely
*not* wanting to know how much he'd given away to all and sundry.
And now. Now Jack was dreading the next confrontation.
Turning the last corner to Sama- Damn it! To *Carter*'s, he *had*
to get his head on straight, to Carter's lab, he stopped short,
frowning in confusion. That almost sounded like.. singing??
As he cautiously approached the doorway, Jack wracked his
brains for any occasion where he'd heard Samantha sing. Let along
sing-
"-Make a, *man* out of you, 'cause I'm a, *woman*! W o, m a n."
Yeahhhhh, okay. To call the infirmary; or *not* to call the
infirmary? Maybe someone else could report her going nuts this
time? He peeked inside the room to try to assess the
danger before he called Teal'c and begged him to come be the one to
*find* her. He saw Carter, sitting at her
bench, fiddling with a colourful doohickey. That was the normal
bit. Jack stood, quietly smiling now, unable to worry in the face
of the kind of megawatt Carter-smile that he'd missed.
Viscerally.
He was trying to remember the last time he'd seen it,
the last time it had been aimed at *him*, when the off-key singing
switched to a husked Black velvet that made his
eyes drop shut as a shiver flowed down his spine; nope, Samantha
couldn't carry a tune in a naquadah generator, but those words were
audio sex even in plain
speech, never mind in a husky, *heartfelt* voice.
"Sir?"
His eyes popped open, meeting bright blue ones. Oops! So
busted. The wide grin still on her lips went a long way to
reassuring him that she wasn't going to either kill him for leaving
that mark on her neck or demand a transfer from some screwed up
guilt or shame. "Hey Sa- Carter," he kept his face blank
as he swore at himself. From the moment he'd decided that calling
her Carter was the only safe option, he'd never once had this kind of
trouble.
Her smile mellowed and she got a little more serious, "Actually sir,
I'm glad you came by. I wanted to apologize-"
He waved her silent, "Not to worry, major, you were under the influence
of an alien bug, nothing to forgive," His fingers found a ratchet
on her bench to play with, "Though I should apologize too, for..." he
pointed the tool vaguely toward her neck.
Sam watched as Jack avoided her eyes, remembering the soft look she'd
caught on his face when she'd noticed him in her doorway. Aside
from his usual twitching fingers and the unwillingness to look at her,
he seemed relaxed enough, which gave her a world of reassurance that he
wasn't freaked out by the inherent revelations of the last few
days. Her grin widened, back to
feeling very good indeed; Janet was right, he
was good and bruised, and it didn't take a primitive mindset to feel a
boost of feminine pride in that. Not when she remembered the very
mixed reaction he'd had to her 'attack'.
"As you said, nothing to apologize for," she hesitated, throwing a
quick glance at
the door before finishing in a soft voice, "Jack."
*That* made his eyes finally meet hers. She wondered if he could
read her; could tell the realization, the *choice* she'd made.
Skipping 'sir' was one thing, but replacing it with his given name was
something they both knew Sam usually only did when one of them had a
close encounter with Death.
"Car-" she saw him swallow quickly, looking half-terrified in a way
that she
wasn't used to from the man who threw smartalec responses in Apophis'
teeth, "Samantha?" Oh. How did he manage to make her
actually *like*
that name?
Answering the need for confirmation inherent in the soft voice and
physical stillness, Sam took
another glance at her still-clear doorway and kept her voice low, for
his ears only, "I was just thinking about.. rooms," She watched
him
steadily, aware that he was letting her see more emotions that he had
since the days when he answered to Jonah, aware suddenly that she
really had far too much
power to hurt this man. Fiercely glad she had gotten her head on
straight before it was too late, "Thinking about eventually finding
ways of
getting *into* rooms."
In the quiet of the lab, Jack could hear his own pulse jackhammering
like he'd run 5 miles, "Yeah?" Where the heck had that rasp come
from? Why did he never have any cool around this woman?
After seven years, he guessed he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't
react to his weird voice shifts, but seeing her nod calmly, still
looking cheerful and.. 'happy'. *That* was what that expression
was. Was
he giving himself too much credit to think he was at least partially
responsible for its return? Though it was damned terrifying to
think he could be responsible for anything so precious; so easily
messed up with any little fumble on his part.
But she didn't sound like she was going to pull the door to that room
open right then and there, so he fell back on humour, feeling rather
attached to that
smile of hers and hoping he could make it appear more often.
He cleared his throat and half-grinned, "So," he waggled a brow,
"Song-worthy?"
AN: thanks for catching the bad rdamel :)
Back to Fanfic
Back to The Canadian Wanderer's homepage