Fic: 54 Hours (Part VI) (Mature)
Title: Reverse Engineering
Author: Divine Joker
Rating: Mature/Adult
Spoilers: Post-Origin, Pre-Beachhead
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me. I am not making any money off of this creation.
A/N: Here’s Part VI in the series that highlights the first weekend that Sam and Jack make it to the cabin alone. Each story is its own, but short (+/- 1200 words) and all combine to make one whole weekend. I do recommend that you read those first, but it’s not *entirely* necessary. As I should always give, the huge job of sounding-board duties and insant beta’ing is indebted to triciabyrne1978.
This is Part VI of the weekend series “54 Hours”. Here’re the links for I - V:
Part I: Plane Simple
Part II: Classic
Part III: In Another Light
Part IV: Used To It (This is rated Mature)
Part V: Lucky
[start]
They drove up the driveway at a little past 1 o’clock. Jack had insisted on stopping at the tackle shop - though he never had baited his hooks - and looking around at all the stuff that he wasn’t going to buy. Sam had caught him eyeing a fishing rod with unabashed jealousy and could only shake her head. If he’d spent time fishing at any place other than his cabin, she might have considered it a good thing; as it was, the two or three times a year that he made it here couldn’t possibly justify...
He hadn’t bought it, but she was slightly apologetic at the look of purely childish greed that flashed over his face as they left the store. After all he’d done for her this weekend, maybe something truly extraneous was something she could do for him.
She let him drive home, to assuage some of her guilt at being so practical when this weekend called for anything but logic. He regressed to a teenager at the first intersection and revved the engine before the light turned green and she was immediately furious at herself for letting him drive.
“Jack, if you stall this engine, I won’t let you watch me fix it.”
His impish grin had melted away as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes darted forward again and he hung his head in shame. “Sorry.”
Jack had driven the rest of the way to the cabin without breaking a single traffic law.
Now, she stepped out into the sunshine of the afternoon and smiled at the feel of it on her face. Taking a deep breath she watched Jack grab the groceries out of the back seat and head into the cabin. Sam knew that he was relaxed, but he still held himself rigidly, square at the shoulders with measured steps. Years of military training could not be ironed out for a weekend of downtime, she thought. Besides, there was a certain appeal to a man who knew how to hold himself.
The front door slammed shut on its spring and Sam headed to the shed to grab some of her tools. She’d driven her bike here two summers ago and had brought several different tools in case something had gone wrong. After that weekend she’d decided to leave them there just in case she ever felt the need to drive - or buy - something that would require a little tuning in the interim.
She was sure that this is what he had been planning for all along.
Grinning, she dropped the tools next to the car and turned to head into the house. Jack had changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and Sam winced.
“You need some time in the sun,” she joked, pointing to his white legs.
“Hey, it’s because I can’t work in Nevada like you, or go through the ‘gate to all those sunny locales.” He argued, his eyes light with humour. “Besides, this is why I’m going fishing.” He cocked his head triumphantly and sauntered out the door with a mocking grin.
Shaking her head, she pulled her shirt over her head and dragged a ratty tank top out of the bottom drawer. It was dark to hide the oil stains, and tight against her skin to avoid getting caught in loose equipment, and shorts with enough pockets and hooks that she could easily cart around all of the tools that she’d need. Grabbing a battered old radio she stepped out into the sunshine. She huffed and blew her growing bangs out of her eyes, wondering when she’d be able to tie it back.
Sam could see him as she walked around the corner of the house to the car. He’d set up his lawn chair with a small table next to it, open beer accompanied by compatriots stuffed tightly into a small cooler on the wooden deck. His cap was tipped back slightly, and she could see the smile of contentment even from thirty feet away.
He shifted his chair a little, turning to face the sun more directly; he ended up turned 45 degrees away from her.
Snapping on the radio to a static local AM band, she lifted the hood of the Mustang and bent into the shade. From the drive, both last night and this morning, she knew that it was running smoothly, but there was a certain pride to be taken in the cleanliness of the entire machine. Crusted oil residue and built up travel dirt coated the outside of nearly ever surface, but she knew that cleaning the actual engine couldn’t happen in a weekend. She’d have to satisfy her impulses with a good outside scrubbing.
The music flowed over her, a necessity when working, but something that she rarely paid attention to. She knew that she hummed to most of the songs - she’d grown up with them - but it had never made her pause.
Then her ears pricked at the opening riff to ‘Sweet Child o’ Mine’ by Guns N’Roses. Cracking in to a surprisingly playful grin, she laughed. Whistling to herself, she could feel her foot start to kick to the rhythm of the guitar. Sam’s fingers moved with the beat and she immersed herself in music and grease.
She’d just tightened a bolt when a warm hand grasped her waist and she jerked in surprise.
“You can dance pretty well for a white girl,” he breathed into her ear. He pulled her back against him and she gasped at the feel of him all along her body. Both of her hands rose to brace herself against the lifted hood of the Mustang and she pushed back against him.
He kissed her neck, one hand palming her stomach to hold her still. Clenching the hot metal of the hood, laid her head against her arm and sighed as his hands moved up and down her sides. One pass dragged her tank up under her breasts, baring her skin to the light of the sun. His breath was hot against her neck as his fingers danced down her sides again and undid the button and zipper and ran along the edge of her panties.
Completely overwhelmed by the rushing sensations, she could only stand immobile. His fingers made quick work of the few clothes that were in between them, pushing them to the side so that he was only touching her warm skin. Eyes closed tight, Sam took a deep breath and reached one hand back around Jack to clutch his t-shirt.
She could feel his fingers fumbling with his own clothing and then the soft, warm breeze from across the pond was blowing across her bared skin. He pulled her hips back, braced one hand against the top of her back and slid into her. Stopping for a moment, Jack moved both hands to hold her waist tightly. Swallowing thickly, Sam raised her head up and opened her eyes to the brightness of the afternoon sun. She could see the wind fluttering the trees, seemingly fluorescent in their colours; there were no sounds other than the rush of Jack’s harsh moans against her ear and the smell of motor oil was strong over that of the country air.
He pushed against her, her hips braced only by his hands. One moved around to spread out across her lower abdomen, the other moved up to cup her breast through her bra. She took his touch, allowing it to flood her senseless, so that all that existed around her was the push and pull of making love.
There was a hard pressure against her upper back and then she could feel him kissing everything that he could reach from his position, soft, inexplicably groans accompanying each caress. She could feel herself building steadily towards climax, a satisfactory climb with varying sensations and thoughts that got lost along the way. She was almost awash in the novelty of losing herself in a new way when she fell over the edge of pleasure and nearly collapsed into the engine of the car.
Jack held her up and bared his teeth against the sweaty skin of her back as she felt him let go. His knees braced on either side of hers fell forward against the hot metal of the bumper to hold himself upright. One arm still wrapped tightly around her middle, he caught his breath when he rested his chin on her shoulder and blinked against the blonde hair that tried to blow into his eyes.
“One would think I’m too old to want you this much,” he confessed, still holding onto her tightly.
Her head fell forward onto her arm, her fingers still clenched around the lip of the hood. Taking a deep breath, she could only chuckle. “That goes both ways, you know. It always has.”
[end]
Author: Divine Joker
Rating: Mature/Adult
Spoilers: Post-Origin, Pre-Beachhead
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me. I am not making any money off of this creation.
A/N: Here’s Part VI in the series that highlights the first weekend that Sam and Jack make it to the cabin alone. Each story is its own, but short (+/- 1200 words) and all combine to make one whole weekend. I do recommend that you read those first, but it’s not *entirely* necessary. As I should always give, the huge job of sounding-board duties and insant beta’ing is indebted to triciabyrne1978.
This is Part VI of the weekend series “54 Hours”. Here’re the links for I - V:
Part I: Plane Simple
Part II: Classic
Part III: In Another Light
Part IV: Used To It (This is rated Mature)
Part V: Lucky
[start]
They drove up the driveway at a little past 1 o’clock. Jack had insisted on stopping at the tackle shop - though he never had baited his hooks - and looking around at all the stuff that he wasn’t going to buy. Sam had caught him eyeing a fishing rod with unabashed jealousy and could only shake her head. If he’d spent time fishing at any place other than his cabin, she might have considered it a good thing; as it was, the two or three times a year that he made it here couldn’t possibly justify...
He hadn’t bought it, but she was slightly apologetic at the look of purely childish greed that flashed over his face as they left the store. After all he’d done for her this weekend, maybe something truly extraneous was something she could do for him.
She let him drive home, to assuage some of her guilt at being so practical when this weekend called for anything but logic. He regressed to a teenager at the first intersection and revved the engine before the light turned green and she was immediately furious at herself for letting him drive.
“Jack, if you stall this engine, I won’t let you watch me fix it.”
His impish grin had melted away as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes darted forward again and he hung his head in shame. “Sorry.”
Jack had driven the rest of the way to the cabin without breaking a single traffic law.
Now, she stepped out into the sunshine of the afternoon and smiled at the feel of it on her face. Taking a deep breath she watched Jack grab the groceries out of the back seat and head into the cabin. Sam knew that he was relaxed, but he still held himself rigidly, square at the shoulders with measured steps. Years of military training could not be ironed out for a weekend of downtime, she thought. Besides, there was a certain appeal to a man who knew how to hold himself.
The front door slammed shut on its spring and Sam headed to the shed to grab some of her tools. She’d driven her bike here two summers ago and had brought several different tools in case something had gone wrong. After that weekend she’d decided to leave them there just in case she ever felt the need to drive - or buy - something that would require a little tuning in the interim.
She was sure that this is what he had been planning for all along.
Grinning, she dropped the tools next to the car and turned to head into the house. Jack had changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and Sam winced.
“You need some time in the sun,” she joked, pointing to his white legs.
“Hey, it’s because I can’t work in Nevada like you, or go through the ‘gate to all those sunny locales.” He argued, his eyes light with humour. “Besides, this is why I’m going fishing.” He cocked his head triumphantly and sauntered out the door with a mocking grin.
Shaking her head, she pulled her shirt over her head and dragged a ratty tank top out of the bottom drawer. It was dark to hide the oil stains, and tight against her skin to avoid getting caught in loose equipment, and shorts with enough pockets and hooks that she could easily cart around all of the tools that she’d need. Grabbing a battered old radio she stepped out into the sunshine. She huffed and blew her growing bangs out of her eyes, wondering when she’d be able to tie it back.
Sam could see him as she walked around the corner of the house to the car. He’d set up his lawn chair with a small table next to it, open beer accompanied by compatriots stuffed tightly into a small cooler on the wooden deck. His cap was tipped back slightly, and she could see the smile of contentment even from thirty feet away.
He shifted his chair a little, turning to face the sun more directly; he ended up turned 45 degrees away from her.
Snapping on the radio to a static local AM band, she lifted the hood of the Mustang and bent into the shade. From the drive, both last night and this morning, she knew that it was running smoothly, but there was a certain pride to be taken in the cleanliness of the entire machine. Crusted oil residue and built up travel dirt coated the outside of nearly ever surface, but she knew that cleaning the actual engine couldn’t happen in a weekend. She’d have to satisfy her impulses with a good outside scrubbing.
The music flowed over her, a necessity when working, but something that she rarely paid attention to. She knew that she hummed to most of the songs - she’d grown up with them - but it had never made her pause.
Then her ears pricked at the opening riff to ‘Sweet Child o’ Mine’ by Guns N’Roses. Cracking in to a surprisingly playful grin, she laughed. Whistling to herself, she could feel her foot start to kick to the rhythm of the guitar. Sam’s fingers moved with the beat and she immersed herself in music and grease.
She’d just tightened a bolt when a warm hand grasped her waist and she jerked in surprise.
“You can dance pretty well for a white girl,” he breathed into her ear. He pulled her back against him and she gasped at the feel of him all along her body. Both of her hands rose to brace herself against the lifted hood of the Mustang and she pushed back against him.
He kissed her neck, one hand palming her stomach to hold her still. Clenching the hot metal of the hood, laid her head against her arm and sighed as his hands moved up and down her sides. One pass dragged her tank up under her breasts, baring her skin to the light of the sun. His breath was hot against her neck as his fingers danced down her sides again and undid the button and zipper and ran along the edge of her panties.
Completely overwhelmed by the rushing sensations, she could only stand immobile. His fingers made quick work of the few clothes that were in between them, pushing them to the side so that he was only touching her warm skin. Eyes closed tight, Sam took a deep breath and reached one hand back around Jack to clutch his t-shirt.
She could feel his fingers fumbling with his own clothing and then the soft, warm breeze from across the pond was blowing across her bared skin. He pulled her hips back, braced one hand against the top of her back and slid into her. Stopping for a moment, Jack moved both hands to hold her waist tightly. Swallowing thickly, Sam raised her head up and opened her eyes to the brightness of the afternoon sun. She could see the wind fluttering the trees, seemingly fluorescent in their colours; there were no sounds other than the rush of Jack’s harsh moans against her ear and the smell of motor oil was strong over that of the country air.
He pushed against her, her hips braced only by his hands. One moved around to spread out across her lower abdomen, the other moved up to cup her breast through her bra. She took his touch, allowing it to flood her senseless, so that all that existed around her was the push and pull of making love.
There was a hard pressure against her upper back and then she could feel him kissing everything that he could reach from his position, soft, inexplicably groans accompanying each caress. She could feel herself building steadily towards climax, a satisfactory climb with varying sensations and thoughts that got lost along the way. She was almost awash in the novelty of losing herself in a new way when she fell over the edge of pleasure and nearly collapsed into the engine of the car.
Jack held her up and bared his teeth against the sweaty skin of her back as she felt him let go. His knees braced on either side of hers fell forward against the hot metal of the bumper to hold himself upright. One arm still wrapped tightly around her middle, he caught his breath when he rested his chin on her shoulder and blinked against the blonde hair that tried to blow into his eyes.
“One would think I’m too old to want you this much,” he confessed, still holding onto her tightly.
Her head fell forward onto her arm, her fingers still clenched around the lip of the hood. Taking a deep breath, she could only chuckle. “That goes both ways, you know. It always has.”
[end]