Title: Dirty Irrationality
Author: Venom_69
Category: Smut, Angst
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Summary:
Actually, come to think of it, Janet would probably be quite proud.
Spoilers: Heroes 2.
For
![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
saramund, thank you for everything.
Season/sequel: Set after Heroes 2.
Archive: SJ, Heliopolis, my site. Anywhere else,
sure, just let me know where so I can come visit.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Promise to put them back
in the state I found them.
Author’s notes: Enjoy….
Feedback: Hell yeah! Don’t make me beg, hit reply
and stroke my ego please.
Dedication: As always, for LEW.
Date: 17-3-2004
Copyright © to Venom, 2003
***
These
wounds won’t seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There’s just too much that time can not erase.
***
The
wall is hard against your back.
The wall is hard, but he is warm and full and inside you and it just does not get
any better than this. Neither of you are talking, there just isn’t enough words to depict *this* aspect of your ‘relationship.’
You’ve never done this before, had sex after someone close to you has died. Some say that death and sex are
very closely mixed, but you’ve never understood it before. Until now.
Until him.
You are adamant that
you will not look at him. Instead, you’ve chosen to grip his back, leaving welts that he will have a hard time explaining,
and you’re looking over his shoulder. There’s a spot on the wall where some form of bird has made it’s mark,
and it’s disgusting, but you’ve chosen that particular spot and you’ve refused to let your eyes move away
from it.
It’s easier to deal with this way. It’s easier to let all of your pain and anger out if you’re
not looking at him. You imagine that he is doing something similar.
He grunts with the effort of a rather deep- and
deliciously hard- thrust into you, and you realize that part of what make this so much fun is the thrill of risking getting
caught. Knowing that you need to be quiet because there are about two hundred Air Force officers on the other side of the
wall mourning the loss of a friend and co-worker. They’re drinking and telling stories of Janet while you’re fucking
your commanding officer’s brains out not five feet away.
You find the irony amusing.
You wonder, briefly,
what you friend would think of you now. Up against the wall behind O’Malley’s, trash can and Dumpster near you
and a few alley cats roaming around. You with your skirt around your waist, your top around your neck and your bra and panties
suspiciously absent. Him with his penis pulled through his fly, shirt unbuttoned and hanging off arms that are supporting
you as your legs are wrapped around his waist.
Actually, come to think of it, Janet would probably be quite proud.
She
was like that.
She was many things. Mother, friend, woman, doctor, healer. But most of all, she was there for you
when you needed her. And now she’s gone, which is why you letting your commanding officer pound into you; because she’s
gone and you don’t know how to fill the void that’s left.
He grunts a little with the effort, but you ignore
the sound. You can identify him from his grunts, and that’s not part of the agreement. You’re not supposed to
realize who it is that is so hot and hard and heavenly inside of you.
You’re also not supposed to realize what
would happen if your commanding officer’s commanding officer were to walk out of the bar and into the back alley behind
the club. You’re not supposed to know that he isn’t wearing a condom, and you’re not on the pill anymore.
You’re
not supposed to know anything at the moment, this is your moment of irrationality. Of stupidity. Of Grief. Of reprieve.
Considering
both your ages- not to mention how long it’s been since you’ve done this- you’re very surprised that neither
of you has come yet. Oh you know it will happen soon, the delicious ache in your abdomen tells you that, but you’re
beginning to get impatient. You need the release, the sheer emotion of it will be enough for you to feel something other than
pai-
Oh *God!*
You have to speak now, you can’t stop your mouth opening and crying out a word you don’t
normally use as the emotions rush over you. Jesus. When did it ever feel *this* good? More to the point, why didn’t
you strip of your uniform that day in the briefing room so many years ago and just demand that he *take* you *right* there
and then?
The words that he groans next matches yours, and you feel him swell inside of you. With one final, and maddeningly
good thrust, he comes, and then you’re both sliding to the dirty floor in the dirty alley, leaning up against the dirty
wall that he just fucked you against.
Finally, he speaks, panting. “That was not how I imagined this evening
would go.”
You nod, agreeing. When you came to your best friend’s wake, you didn’t expect to get
laid. You expected tears. But, one thing that does comfort you, is that dead doesn’t always mean *dead* when you work
at the SGC.
Readjusting your clothing, you look around and wonder where your panties have gone. You spy something
that looks suspiciously like black lace poking out of his pants pocket, but you don’t say anything. If you get to keep
his semen as memorabilia, why shouldn’t he get to keep your underwear?
“Thank you.” You finally say.
“For
what?”
For loving me, your brain supplies. For letting me love you. For letting me feel something. For being
here for me. For always being here for me, even when I pushed you away. “For everything.” Is all you voice, but
you suspect he understands.
“I understand.” It’s not often that you’re wrong. “Do you
want to…..?” He gestures wildly towards the back entrance to the bar.
You shake your head. You’re
just a little too flushed to walk back in there and pretend that you’re innocent now. “Not yet.”
He
nods, and looks around him uncomfortably. You want to ask what’s wrong, but then you’d have to call him something.
Colonel or Sir don’t seem to be enough, but Jack seems to be too much. “You ok?”
“No,”
He wiggles a bit more and finally pulls something out from under him. “I had a rotten lettuce leaf stuck to my ass.”
He throws it towards a scampering mouse. “Ew!”
You can’t help it, you laugh.
His disgusting
encounter with the rotten vegetable forgotten, he looks at you. “So…we’re ok, right?
You can tell
that the questions bothers him, as it does you. After all, when you walked out into the dark alley, you didn’t expect
to end up doing each other. “Sure we are.”
“I’m not going to declare my undying love for you
Carter.” You didn’t ever imagine he felt that way, anyway. “Because I don’t think you’re ready
to hear it. But…when you are, let me know.”
And he walks away, leaving you on the dirty ground, completely
stunned.
Somehow, you manage to pull yourself together, and fifteen minutes later you’ve said your good-bye’s
to all of the relevant people, and are out in the car park with your cell phone in your hand, hitting speed dial one.
His
voice is amused when he picks up his own cell, and you hear the rush of traffic in the background. “Didn’t take
you long.”
***
end.
