Stargate SG1; Sam & Jack; Five Pieces of Furniture: Bed
Title: More Than Friends
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme: Pieces of Furniture: Bed
Rating: Mature
Author's Note: Its been another great ride with stagesoflove
More Than Friends
Sam attacked the poor hedge along the east side of her yard with renewed vigor, her electric hedge clippers making fast and devastating work of the overgrown shrubbery. After several minutes of unrestrained hedge clipping, she whacked off one last unsuspecting limb and figured it was time to stop and check her work. Powering down the clippers, she stepped back and felt a momentary twinge at the devastation she’d wrought. Her hedge lines were straight but the poor shrubs had been clipped within an inch of their lives.
Sam wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to take her frustrations out on her Yews. It wasn’t her shrubs fault that Jack O’Neill choked on the big one.
Friends, what was so hard about that? Sam turned to the junipers that grew on either side of her front porch. You would have though Skaara had asked him if they were sleeping together rather than would they come to his wedding together. Men, she fumed, and turned the hedge clippers back on, enjoying the snarl of the engine. If she only had a chain saw, she thought longingly, whacking through the unsuspecting junipers.
Why was it so hard? She’d all but told him-on more than one occasion-that she was ready. Ready to do it…take the next step…make the plunge…hell, go all the freaking way. She hacked off some more of the juniper, the aromatic scent of the foliage and berries heavy in the hot air, leaves and twigs scattered around her. Panting, she abruptly stopped when she realized there was barely anything left of the innocent plant. She had to get a grip. Focusing, she concentrated on trimming the other bushes, forcing her thoughts of Jack O’Neill and his pigheadedness as far to the periphery as she could.
Finishing with the junipers-which thankfully didn’t look too lopsided, she moved to the other side of the porch. Throttling up the trimmer, she paused by the steps when she heard the low growl of an engine and a very familiar looking black pick-up pulled up in front of her house.
Great. What was he doing here?
It was Saturday, she was dressed in her grubbiest jeans and T-shirt, wearing an old pair of her combat boots. She hadn’t washed her hair that morning, she was sweaty and sticky, bits of leaves and twigs clinging to her. She watched, waiting until he opened the door and got out, sparing him half a look before turning her back and oh so carefully starting work on the matching set of junipers on the other side of the porch. Even over the noise of the trimmer, she was sure she could hear his approach.
“Sam!”
She ignored him, finishing off one particularly annoying branch with a flourish.
“Sam!”
He sounded irritated now and she didn’t care-but she did shut off the clippers. Turning, she glared at him. “What?”
The slightly taken aback look that flashed across his face was momentarily satisfying. She wasn’t going to roll over on this one-whatever it was.
“I…ah….” He seemed at a genuine loss for words and she could feel herself start to soften-until he finished the sentence. “I thought you might need to talk.”
Her eyes narrowed and she held the hedge trimmers poised between them like a weapon. “About what?”
He shrugged, shifting his feet and looking uncomfortable. “About Skaara, Abydos…you know.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied, knowing full what he meant.
He frowned briefly and she had to give him some credit when he forged on. “About the whole wedding thing.”
“Oh that,” she replied airily. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that now, do you? There won’t be any wedding to go to as friends.” She all but spat the out the offensive word.
“Sam,” he protested, just the slightest hint of hurt and confusion in his eyes. “You know I think of you as a friend.”
She sighed. And here she though he might have finally gotten it. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
His usually endearing look of confusing increased. “You don’t want to be friends?”
There were days when Sam wished she’d never met Jack O’Neill and this was turning into one of them. How could someone so smart be so dumb? She’d tried subtle, she’d tried cute, maybe it was time to go with direct.
Tossing the hedge clippers down on the grass, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “No, dammit,” she growled, “I don’t want to be friends.” And then she proceeded to plant a big kiss right on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To say Jack was stunned would be the understatement of the century, perhaps even of this millennium. She had him so off balance-a sensation to which he was not accustomed-he didn’t know which what to think. But his body knew exactly what to do, his lips molding to hers, his arms closing around her and pulling her tight against his chest. Which didn’t seem quite close enough for Sam, the way she clung to him and pressed herself even closer. She smelled like sweat and gin berries and he knew he’d forever associate those scents with the moment Sam Carter had jumped his bones.
Fast on his way to oblivion, the blaring of a car horn jerked Jack back to reality. Being kissed by Carter was good; getting groped by Carter was also good; what was not so good was being kissed and groped by Carter on her front lawn in front of all her neighbors and anybody driving down the street.
Grabbing a hand that was already working its way under his shirt and heading dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans, Jack pulled his mouth from hers. “Carter,” he hissed. “Not here.” Seemingly undeterred, she kept pressing hot kisses along his jaw, the hand he wasn’t holding now following the earlier route of its mate.
Jack was faced with a decision he’d wrestled with on more than one occasion-to give into his desire and deep attraction for Carter or do what he usually did-ignore it. But then and there, on Sam Carter’s front lawn with the hot sun beating down on them, he had a moment of unexpected clarity, a vision of his possible futures spread out before him, one with Carter and one without her. The decision was obvious.
The feeling of peace that settled over Jack blended quite easily with the passion currently riding him hard. Trusting in her reflexes, he started walking, pulling her along behind him, up the steps, across the porch and-thankfully-through her unlocked front door and into her house. It was dark and cool in the foyer, and after the heat and bright sun, he felt momentarily disoriented, a weakness that she immediately took advantage of, pressing him back up against the wall, her mouth once more hungry and demanding on his.
Indoors was good and the kissing was even better than any of his wildest dreams. And now that there weren’t other distractions, Jack could concentrate on the woman in his arms. When she nipped lightly at his lower lip, he obediently opened his mouth, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, teasing and tempting him with each sweet touch. He thought hazily that he could go on kissing her indefinitely, content to kiss her and slowly explore the soft skin he discovered beneath her T-shirt.
When her mouth eventually left his, Jack didn’t protest, instead trailing his mouth in a series of leisurely kisses down her throat, his hands tugging at her T-shirt. Nuzzling her neck, his senses were once again assailed by the faint scent of juniper and sweat. He had just managed to get her T-shirt worked up to under her arms when she suddenly slipped out of his arms.
“Sam,” he groaned, reaching for her.
Her lips curved in a sultry smile and she took his hands, slowly backing down the hallway and pulling him along. “Not here.”
“What?” Jack rumbled, his thoughts in hazy confusion. If not here, then where? They were in her house, for crying out loud. “Where?” he finally managed to ask, still shuffling along after her.
“Bed.”
The End
Author/Artist: sjhw_tolerance
Theme: Pieces of Furniture: Bed
Rating: Mature
Author's Note: Its been another great ride with stagesoflove
More Than Friends
Sam attacked the poor hedge along the east side of her yard with renewed vigor, her electric hedge clippers making fast and devastating work of the overgrown shrubbery. After several minutes of unrestrained hedge clipping, she whacked off one last unsuspecting limb and figured it was time to stop and check her work. Powering down the clippers, she stepped back and felt a momentary twinge at the devastation she’d wrought. Her hedge lines were straight but the poor shrubs had been clipped within an inch of their lives.
Sam wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to take her frustrations out on her Yews. It wasn’t her shrubs fault that Jack O’Neill choked on the big one.
Friends, what was so hard about that? Sam turned to the junipers that grew on either side of her front porch. You would have though Skaara had asked him if they were sleeping together rather than would they come to his wedding together. Men, she fumed, and turned the hedge clippers back on, enjoying the snarl of the engine. If she only had a chain saw, she thought longingly, whacking through the unsuspecting junipers.
Why was it so hard? She’d all but told him-on more than one occasion-that she was ready. Ready to do it…take the next step…make the plunge…hell, go all the freaking way. She hacked off some more of the juniper, the aromatic scent of the foliage and berries heavy in the hot air, leaves and twigs scattered around her. Panting, she abruptly stopped when she realized there was barely anything left of the innocent plant. She had to get a grip. Focusing, she concentrated on trimming the other bushes, forcing her thoughts of Jack O’Neill and his pigheadedness as far to the periphery as she could.
Finishing with the junipers-which thankfully didn’t look too lopsided, she moved to the other side of the porch. Throttling up the trimmer, she paused by the steps when she heard the low growl of an engine and a very familiar looking black pick-up pulled up in front of her house.
Great. What was he doing here?
It was Saturday, she was dressed in her grubbiest jeans and T-shirt, wearing an old pair of her combat boots. She hadn’t washed her hair that morning, she was sweaty and sticky, bits of leaves and twigs clinging to her. She watched, waiting until he opened the door and got out, sparing him half a look before turning her back and oh so carefully starting work on the matching set of junipers on the other side of the porch. Even over the noise of the trimmer, she was sure she could hear his approach.
“Sam!”
She ignored him, finishing off one particularly annoying branch with a flourish.
“Sam!”
He sounded irritated now and she didn’t care-but she did shut off the clippers. Turning, she glared at him. “What?”
The slightly taken aback look that flashed across his face was momentarily satisfying. She wasn’t going to roll over on this one-whatever it was.
“I…ah….” He seemed at a genuine loss for words and she could feel herself start to soften-until he finished the sentence. “I thought you might need to talk.”
Her eyes narrowed and she held the hedge trimmers poised between them like a weapon. “About what?”
He shrugged, shifting his feet and looking uncomfortable. “About Skaara, Abydos…you know.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied, knowing full what he meant.
He frowned briefly and she had to give him some credit when he forged on. “About the whole wedding thing.”
“Oh that,” she replied airily. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that now, do you? There won’t be any wedding to go to as friends.” She all but spat the out the offensive word.
“Sam,” he protested, just the slightest hint of hurt and confusion in his eyes. “You know I think of you as a friend.”
She sighed. And here she though he might have finally gotten it. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
His usually endearing look of confusing increased. “You don’t want to be friends?”
There were days when Sam wished she’d never met Jack O’Neill and this was turning into one of them. How could someone so smart be so dumb? She’d tried subtle, she’d tried cute, maybe it was time to go with direct.
Tossing the hedge clippers down on the grass, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “No, dammit,” she growled, “I don’t want to be friends.” And then she proceeded to plant a big kiss right on his lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To say Jack was stunned would be the understatement of the century, perhaps even of this millennium. She had him so off balance-a sensation to which he was not accustomed-he didn’t know which what to think. But his body knew exactly what to do, his lips molding to hers, his arms closing around her and pulling her tight against his chest. Which didn’t seem quite close enough for Sam, the way she clung to him and pressed herself even closer. She smelled like sweat and gin berries and he knew he’d forever associate those scents with the moment Sam Carter had jumped his bones.
Fast on his way to oblivion, the blaring of a car horn jerked Jack back to reality. Being kissed by Carter was good; getting groped by Carter was also good; what was not so good was being kissed and groped by Carter on her front lawn in front of all her neighbors and anybody driving down the street.
Grabbing a hand that was already working its way under his shirt and heading dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans, Jack pulled his mouth from hers. “Carter,” he hissed. “Not here.” Seemingly undeterred, she kept pressing hot kisses along his jaw, the hand he wasn’t holding now following the earlier route of its mate.
Jack was faced with a decision he’d wrestled with on more than one occasion-to give into his desire and deep attraction for Carter or do what he usually did-ignore it. But then and there, on Sam Carter’s front lawn with the hot sun beating down on them, he had a moment of unexpected clarity, a vision of his possible futures spread out before him, one with Carter and one without her. The decision was obvious.
The feeling of peace that settled over Jack blended quite easily with the passion currently riding him hard. Trusting in her reflexes, he started walking, pulling her along behind him, up the steps, across the porch and-thankfully-through her unlocked front door and into her house. It was dark and cool in the foyer, and after the heat and bright sun, he felt momentarily disoriented, a weakness that she immediately took advantage of, pressing him back up against the wall, her mouth once more hungry and demanding on his.
Indoors was good and the kissing was even better than any of his wildest dreams. And now that there weren’t other distractions, Jack could concentrate on the woman in his arms. When she nipped lightly at his lower lip, he obediently opened his mouth, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, teasing and tempting him with each sweet touch. He thought hazily that he could go on kissing her indefinitely, content to kiss her and slowly explore the soft skin he discovered beneath her T-shirt.
When her mouth eventually left his, Jack didn’t protest, instead trailing his mouth in a series of leisurely kisses down her throat, his hands tugging at her T-shirt. Nuzzling her neck, his senses were once again assailed by the faint scent of juniper and sweat. He had just managed to get her T-shirt worked up to under her arms when she suddenly slipped out of his arms.
“Sam,” he groaned, reaching for her.
Her lips curved in a sultry smile and she took his hands, slowly backing down the hallway and pulling him along. “Not here.”
“What?” Jack rumbled, his thoughts in hazy confusion. If not here, then where? They were in her house, for crying out loud. “Where?” he finally managed to ask, still shuffling along after her.
“Bed.”
The End