FIC: "Soft Touch". Sam/Jack.
Soft Touch. S10. R. Sam/Jack established. 847 words.
A while back surrealphantast pointed out the need for happy, fluffy, S10 S/J. It's not exactly fluffy, per say, but it's close enough.
For the ever-so-lovely Kate. Thank you again.
Jack squirmed on the damp, rumpled sheets of his bed, and when Carter slid up against his side and curved an arm over his stomach, he shoved her away. "Gah, too hot. Don't touch me."
Mid-July in the hottest week D.C. had seen in years, and of course his air-conditioning was out. It was really too hot to do anything, let alone have sex, but two hours of watching Carter lounge on the couch, stripped down to her underwear to stay cool, had been too much for him. And he'd certainly enjoyed the fun while it lasted, but hot sex and hot weather led to distinctly un-hot sticky, post-coital ew.
"Let's take a nice cold shower," Jack said, wriggling to evade her clammy embrace. He now teetered right on the edge of the bed. "And I'll take you to dinner at a nice air-conditioned restaurant."
Carter only snorted and tightened her grip around him. "Big baby. You certainly weren't complaining earlier."
"Well, earlier I had other things on my mind." He tried to peel her hand away from his hip finger by finger, but that just made her scoot closer, plastering her sweaty skin along the length of his side. "Carter! Stop it!"
Laughing, she said, "Nope. You got your sex, I want my cuddling." Jack was pretty sure she was as uncomfortable as he was, but he'd learned over the last year and a half that Carter had an incredible capacity for vengeful pettiness. Or maybe she was just making up for eight years of having to put up with his crap.
As Jack considered rolling over the side of the bed and taking her with him, Carter pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of his neck and let him go, flopping onto her stomach. She groaned, stretching out, and Jack happily watched the play of muscles in her thighs and the curve of her backside. "Why don't you have any fans?"
"Because I'm supposed to have central air." Jack jostled her with an elbow, forcing her to give up enough bed space that he could sprawl spread-eagle, grateful he'd gotten the king. "Shit, Carter, l've gotten soft."
He'd intended it jokingly, but unease crowded in behind the admission when he heard it out loud. It must have shown, because Carter said, "Jack?" and curled close to him once more. He didn't push her away, letting her settle into the curve of his arm. She wasn't soft; even on the wrong side of forty she was mostly lean muscle. There was a slight roundness to her belly, and she'd wryly once joked that even she couldn't defeat gravity as she'd cupped her breasts, but she was still a soldier, a strong soldier, out there kicking ass and making a difference and he...
"Oh god, Carter. I really am The Man."
Carter pushed herself up on an elbow, taking his non-sequitur in her usual stride. "So you have been telling me for years," was all she said as she leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss against his mouth. He cupped the back of her neck, thumb pressed gently into the slight hollow at the base of her skull, before she pulled more than a few inches away.
"Why did you go back to the SGC, Carter?"
She only blinked at yet another whiplash turn of conversation. "I'm pretty sure because you called me and told me to go blow something up for them."
"But that's not why you stayed." She'd been adamant that she wouldn't, that she was taking the assignment as a favor. And then she'd called him three days after the mission and told him she wanted to be re-assed back to the SGC. He’d said yes, because he’d have done the same thing given the chance, but it had galled at him for months that he couldn’t.
"No, it's not," she said as she straddled him, her thighs still wet from earlier. "Still, didn't you tell me once that General Hammond thought commanding the SGC was going to be a shortcut to the end of his career? And look what he's done. What he did for SG-1. We’d have lost Earth by the second year if he hadn’t backed us and fought for us."
Oh. "He did do a lot of good work from behind that desk." She was sneaky, his Carter.
"He did." She'd shifted her weight and his hardening cock settled happily against the slick heat of her labia, and now she pressed her hips down, sliding along the length of him and dragging a low groan from his throat. "So," Carter said, "you still too hot for some cuddling?"
"Are we done talking about General Hammond?"
She laughed when she said, "You tell me," but Jack heard the sober query under the teasing.
So he slid his hands up her back, working his way to her shoulders so he could tug her down against his chest. He mouthed "thank you" along the line of her jaw, and kissed her before saying, "Hey. After dinner, let's go buy a fan."
A while back surrealphantast pointed out the need for happy, fluffy, S10 S/J. It's not exactly fluffy, per say, but it's close enough.
For the ever-so-lovely Kate. Thank you again.
Jack squirmed on the damp, rumpled sheets of his bed, and when Carter slid up against his side and curved an arm over his stomach, he shoved her away. "Gah, too hot. Don't touch me."
Mid-July in the hottest week D.C. had seen in years, and of course his air-conditioning was out. It was really too hot to do anything, let alone have sex, but two hours of watching Carter lounge on the couch, stripped down to her underwear to stay cool, had been too much for him. And he'd certainly enjoyed the fun while it lasted, but hot sex and hot weather led to distinctly un-hot sticky, post-coital ew.
"Let's take a nice cold shower," Jack said, wriggling to evade her clammy embrace. He now teetered right on the edge of the bed. "And I'll take you to dinner at a nice air-conditioned restaurant."
Carter only snorted and tightened her grip around him. "Big baby. You certainly weren't complaining earlier."
"Well, earlier I had other things on my mind." He tried to peel her hand away from his hip finger by finger, but that just made her scoot closer, plastering her sweaty skin along the length of his side. "Carter! Stop it!"
Laughing, she said, "Nope. You got your sex, I want my cuddling." Jack was pretty sure she was as uncomfortable as he was, but he'd learned over the last year and a half that Carter had an incredible capacity for vengeful pettiness. Or maybe she was just making up for eight years of having to put up with his crap.
As Jack considered rolling over the side of the bed and taking her with him, Carter pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of his neck and let him go, flopping onto her stomach. She groaned, stretching out, and Jack happily watched the play of muscles in her thighs and the curve of her backside. "Why don't you have any fans?"
"Because I'm supposed to have central air." Jack jostled her with an elbow, forcing her to give up enough bed space that he could sprawl spread-eagle, grateful he'd gotten the king. "Shit, Carter, l've gotten soft."
He'd intended it jokingly, but unease crowded in behind the admission when he heard it out loud. It must have shown, because Carter said, "Jack?" and curled close to him once more. He didn't push her away, letting her settle into the curve of his arm. She wasn't soft; even on the wrong side of forty she was mostly lean muscle. There was a slight roundness to her belly, and she'd wryly once joked that even she couldn't defeat gravity as she'd cupped her breasts, but she was still a soldier, a strong soldier, out there kicking ass and making a difference and he...
"Oh god, Carter. I really am The Man."
Carter pushed herself up on an elbow, taking his non-sequitur in her usual stride. "So you have been telling me for years," was all she said as she leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss against his mouth. He cupped the back of her neck, thumb pressed gently into the slight hollow at the base of her skull, before she pulled more than a few inches away.
"Why did you go back to the SGC, Carter?"
She only blinked at yet another whiplash turn of conversation. "I'm pretty sure because you called me and told me to go blow something up for them."
"But that's not why you stayed." She'd been adamant that she wouldn't, that she was taking the assignment as a favor. And then she'd called him three days after the mission and told him she wanted to be re-assed back to the SGC. He’d said yes, because he’d have done the same thing given the chance, but it had galled at him for months that he couldn’t.
"No, it's not," she said as she straddled him, her thighs still wet from earlier. "Still, didn't you tell me once that General Hammond thought commanding the SGC was going to be a shortcut to the end of his career? And look what he's done. What he did for SG-1. We’d have lost Earth by the second year if he hadn’t backed us and fought for us."
Oh. "He did do a lot of good work from behind that desk." She was sneaky, his Carter.
"He did." She'd shifted her weight and his hardening cock settled happily against the slick heat of her labia, and now she pressed her hips down, sliding along the length of him and dragging a low groan from his throat. "So," Carter said, "you still too hot for some cuddling?"
"Are we done talking about General Hammond?"
She laughed when she said, "You tell me," but Jack heard the sober query under the teasing.
So he slid his hands up her back, working his way to her shoulders so he could tug her down against his chest. He mouthed "thank you" along the line of her jaw, and kissed her before saying, "Hey. After dinner, let's go buy a fan."