Title: Home
Author: Ky (Venom_69)
Fandom: Stargate
Category: Smut, angst.
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: ADULT
Summary: Tomorrow she’ll say “Oh what have I done?”
Archive: 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. Song’s not mine either. That’s Dire Straits “Romeo & Juliet”
Author’s notes: Written for million_moments. Enjoy chickey.
Date: 17/09/06
Copyright © to Venom, 2006

***

Juliet, the dice were loaded from the start
And I bet and you exploded in my heart
And I forget the movie song
When you wanna realise it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?

***

The lanyard around her neck collects some of the sweat from her hairline.

Her mp3 player, hanging from the lanyard, jostles in the valley of her breasts with each step. Through the sounds of Corey Hart singing about sunglasses at night, she can hear the pounding of her feet on the pavement.

It rhythmic, consistent.

Something stable in a world of chaos and as she forces one foot in front of the other, she feels like she has a semblance of control while her world spins madly around her.

Daniel is leaving, Teal'c has left the planet, she’s at R&D and he is gone.

She’s mad.

At them, at herself. Mostly at him.

There’s a pause as her mp3 player changes song.

Hepburn helps. I’m telling you now. I quit. I quit. ‘Cause loving you’s a job I don’t need.

As she pushed her body further, running through the park, she silently thanks Cassie for the gift.

The black shorts she wears are also sticky with sweat. The underside of her breasts are hot in the sports bra she wears. It’s uncomfortable, annoying, comforting.

It’s been a while since she pushed her body like this. A while since she’s had too much steam to let off, too much that couldn't be fixed with a mild workout in the gym on base.

He used to spar with her. He was teaching her to box, for a while. But then that one time had ended in a wrestling match and when she had her thighs pinned around his head, looked down at his flushed face, saw his eyes darken and felt a flutter low in her belly, they both knew it was time to stop.

She misses that flutter a little. Misses that she could turn and find him staring at her, heat in his eyes and a little smirk on his lips. She misses that he would touch her so innocently and her insides would do a little flop. She misses that his idea of cheering her up was blue jell-o, cake and the offer of fishing.

Sigh.

She misses him.

Her legs are starting to burn, now. The sweet ache of working her muscles has given way to a slight shaking that makes her think she’s pushed herself too hard today.

She stops for a break by the swings, leaning against them for support as her pulse races frantically.

Two little boys are playing nearby, their attention focused on something in a small glass bowl between them and Sam pulls the headphone from her ears to listen as she breaths deeply.

“Kill it.”

“You can’t kill it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it has a name. My mom says you can’t kill things that have a name.”

“You don’t know it’s name.”

"The caterpillar's name is Catherine, now you can't kill it!"

The childish innocence is soothing, but it makes her think of little boys with brown eyes and their father’s humour that will never be, so she doesn’t stay around to listen to whatever their discussion turns to next.

She runs her hands through her hair, sweat collecting around her hairline as she pushes it back. Her headphones are placed back in her ears, Joe Nichols tells her about the dangers of tequila and she starts off again.

Tomorrow she’ll say “Oh what have I done?”

It’s no more than half a mile more before she stops, hidden in the tress as she clutches her side, breathing harshly. She’s done too much. She’s going to have to walk home and the sun is beginning to set below the horizon. Even her ears are sweaty and her headphones slip out, dangling down between her legs, brushing the ground.

Sam doesn’t hear him approach, she doesn’t feel his presence until he is there, at her back, pressed against her.

“Stop huffing like that. You know it isn’t helping. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” The voice is in her ear, the words breathed out against her hot skin.

“I’ve heard that before.” She retorts and the words are breathy. She doesn’t like it, but he’s right. He told her that during the early days of her boxing lessons. She is fine when it comes to battle, hand to hand combat, running for her life. But when she pushes herself, she forgets what she’s learnt about the importance of the correct breathing.

There’s a hand on her bare hip - when did he put that there? - warm against her skin. “I remember.”

“Why are you here?” It’s not what she wants to say, not even close, but her brain has turned into a puddle of mush and melted out of her ear, so it’s the best that she can do.

“Can’t an old friend drop by to see you?”

His words anger her. She remembers their last conversation all too well.

”You’re just going to leave us? Leave your friends?” She demanded angrily.

He continued packing the box on his desk. “I’m sure our paths will cross. We work for the same people, you know.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I’m your friend, aren’t I?” It was a desperate question, a wealth of meaning behind the actual words. He could make or break her here.

“We’re not friends, Carter. Did you ever really believe we were?”

Break it is, then.

“We’re not friends, remember.”

She feels the tension in his fingertips against her. “I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

“Yes, you were.”

His hand slides up slowly. God, so slowly, until it cups her right breast. His fingers trace her nipple and her already fragile legs threaten to cease functioning. “Forgive me?”

Oh hell no. “It’ll take more than playing with my nipple to make me forgive you, Sir.” She is proud of how strong her voice sounds, how stable, while her insides roll in somersaults and her throat closes at the feeling.

He doesn’t fight fair though. His other hand splays across her belly, his palm covering her navel, the warm heat adding to the sticky sheen of sweat already covering her.

If this is his idea of helping her breathing, it’s not working.

“You sure it will take more?” He pinches her nipple to aid his point.

“You hurt me.” She admits. “You were cruel.”

“I was.” He agrees, kissing her neck.

“Why did you come back?” She hates herself for asking, but she needs to know. If he came back with the intention of fucking her out of his system, well… she’ll let him, but it will break her heart when he leaves and she wants to know, upfront, what to expect. She wont be able to prepare for it, but she likes to lie to herself that she can try.

Jack sighs against her skin, licking a line of sweat as he thinks. “I don’t like my life when you’re not in it.”

The admission is probably hard for him, but she can’t loose her focus. She has a heart to protect here. “You don’t live in Colorado anymore.”

“My house is here,” he says, moving his hand under the waistband of her shorts and underwear. “And so is my home, it seems.” He plays in the moisture that he finds between her legs. “And I get the feeling you’re not about to disagree with me.”

“Sir…” She pants. Already, so fast, she can feel a tight coil of tension low in her belly, ready to explode. Her voice is a whimper. “Don’t hurt me.”

What the hell am I doing? She wonders, desperately fighting for control that she knows abandoned her ten minutes ago. We’re in public, for God’s sake!

“Stop thinking.” A finger finds her clit, drawing slow, lazy little designs.

“I’m not.” She protests weakly, leaning back against him further.

His finger picks up speed, moving in consistent circles in all the right places and she moans pathetically, low in the back of her throat. “Now you’re not.”

Smug bastard.

Talented, though.

His finger rests on the hood of her clit – he seems to know as well as she does that direct stimulation would kill her – and the calluses send waves of friction through her. Electric shocks travel up her body, joined with his right hand as it continues to manipulate her breast.

It’s the strangest thought, but she never realized that he was ambidextrous before.

She’s almost embarrassed at how quickly it happens, but it feels so good that she can’t care. I’m dying, she thinks, as his name is torn from her in a sob.

“You’re beautiful.”

She huffs.

His hand leaves her and she is grateful. Her body is overly stimulated and anything more would be more painful than pleasurable. He seems to know that, too. “You are. You have no idea.”

She ignores that, only because she believes it’s not true. “What happens now?” Her voice is shaky.

Lips kiss her neck again. “That’s up to you, Samantha.”

Sam closes her eyes against the rush of feeling and it’s only now as her underwear sticks uncomfortably to her that she realizes she’s not even seen his face.

Don’t do it! her heart pleads, but her brain has already formed the words and they’re coming out of her mouth before she can stop them. “Come home with me.”

***

End