(no subject)
Title: Fury
Author:
rolleson
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: Adult
Character/Pairing: Jack/Pete (with some slight Jack/Sam, Jack/Kerry, Sam/Pete)
Spoilers: Anything with Pete and Kerry in it.
Warnings: Sex, slash, crack!fic
Disclaimer Fanfic should never be taken too seriously.
Notes: I had to write this. I'm just that sort of person. Apologies go to million_moments whose begging did not prevent this crack!fic.
Jack didn’t like the idea that anger and sex were so closely linked. He didn’t understand it when men raped women, with such anger, anger directed at women in general, or at a certain woman. He wasn’t like that and he couldn’t understand it. Such men were monsters, they weren’t men.
He didn’t understand how anger and sex could be so closely connected until Pete Shanahan answered the door at Sam’s home, when he had gone round one afternoon, just to talk, to see her, to pretend he had some work for her.
Even though he had left his briefcase in his truck.
He discovered that sex and anger could be spurred on by one another when he saw the blonde cop open Sam Carter’s door and smile at him. He smiled, not a hint of a frown, or jealousy or anything to give away the fact that Sam might have a thing for her commanding officer. Not a hint that the man was in anyway intimidated by him. But then, Pete was a cop, he had a gun, who the hell would intimidate a guy with a gun at his side.
Jack wanted intimidate him.
There was less than a moment in which Jack’s mind snapped, the anger taking over, that old red mist forming, and he had the cop back against the wall of Sam’s hallway, door still open, and his lips hard on Pete’s.
He pressed his whole body up against his, he was a little taller than Pete, had to stoop a little to press his crotch hard into his and kiss the man, bite at his lips. Not nibble, but bite and try to draw blood. He was angry, furious and that fury was blocking the thought that this was the first time he had kissed a man. Blocking out the realisation that Pete was kissing him back with just as much anger, and passion.
This was the first time he had been this angry but not the first time he had been this passionate. He didn’t like to think the two were connected either.
The fury was blocking out most thoughts.
It was intensified when, in Sam’s bedroom, on Sam’s bed, stripped completely of their clothes, Pete leaned over towards the cabinet beside her bed, her bed, on his stomach and pulled out some lube from the bottom of it. The fury was intensified when he handed it to Jack, without a word and waited, smiling almost.
The fury couldn’t stop him from making this huge mistake.
Anger and regret were closely related too, Jack knew that one, but it didn’t stop him from fucking her boyfriend in her bed. He couldn’t see properly. His vision blurred by tears that he didn’t even realise he was shedding and he could only feel as he dug his fingers into Pete’s skin, and thrust hard into the man’s tight body. He was a good looking guy, strong legs, good chest, but Jack wasn’t thinking about that, was only thinking about Sam and how angry he was. He didn’t even think about how good it felt, how good it smelt, lube and sweat and sex. It wasn’t something he’d experienced before and he wasn’t really experiencing it now because he was so damn angry and he was only thinking about Sam. His eyes were open and he was looking at a little round scar on the man’s back, not really taking it in, just thinking about Sam but not her body because this was Pete, this was a man, and it felt really good, he could feel himself getting close, puffing out air with force as he moved, but he wasn’t really enjoying it, he was just there and when Pete came, groaning ‘fucking hell’, he stopped moving completely. The man was shaking beneath him and the haze of anger was passing now and he was in serious denial because he was so close, a few more strokes and he would be shaking too, furious but coming.
Pete’s voice had done it and Jack was really wishing the man had said something sooner. He pulled out in one clean movement, letting Pete collapse onto the bed, her bed, and stood up. He picked up his jeans and pulled them on, zipping them up carefully and ignoring Pete as he too stood up, until he felt the man put a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around and punched Pete in the jaw, hard, sending him reeling backwards, stumbling a little. He regained his balance as Jack pulled on his shirt and socks, feeling his jaw and watched him storm off minutes later, shoes in hand, while he stood there naked and bruised.
*
Jack drank himself to sleep that night, punching a hole in the plaster board wall of his bedroom and waking up tasting the carpet of his hallway where he had ended up, debating the anger and sex with himself, berating himself, contemplating suicide. He asked Kerry out when the hang over finally passed. Not so much to reaffirm his own heterosexuality (though it would help) but to forget about Sam. He done something terrible. It was either fuck another woman, and pretend nothing had happened, or shoot himself.
He could pretend for a while. He’d gotten good at that over the years. He could fuck Kerry and think of Sam and try to forget about what it felt like to fuck Pete. Or try to remember what it felt like to fuck Pete through the dazed anger.
He didn’t know how the man passed off the bruised jaw. She never mentioned it, not to him anyway. He was never going to ask and he didn’t want to know. He wanted to tear the man to pieces, when he was alone, drunk, in the dark and thinking morbidly.
What had disturbed him most was that Pete had wanted it, wanted him. He kissed him back, he found the lube, he came. He enjoyed it and Jack wanted to tell Sam, tell Sam her fiancé had cheated on her, but it would destroy everything.
Worst of all, he knew, he’d do it all again.
Author:
rolleson
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: Adult
Character/Pairing: Jack/Pete (with some slight Jack/Sam, Jack/Kerry, Sam/Pete)
Spoilers: Anything with Pete and Kerry in it.
Warnings: Sex, slash, crack!fic
Disclaimer Fanfic should never be taken too seriously.
Notes: I had to write this. I'm just that sort of person. Apologies go to million_moments whose begging did not prevent this crack!fic.
Jack didn’t like the idea that anger and sex were so closely linked. He didn’t understand it when men raped women, with such anger, anger directed at women in general, or at a certain woman. He wasn’t like that and he couldn’t understand it. Such men were monsters, they weren’t men.
He didn’t understand how anger and sex could be so closely connected until Pete Shanahan answered the door at Sam’s home, when he had gone round one afternoon, just to talk, to see her, to pretend he had some work for her.
Even though he had left his briefcase in his truck.
He discovered that sex and anger could be spurred on by one another when he saw the blonde cop open Sam Carter’s door and smile at him. He smiled, not a hint of a frown, or jealousy or anything to give away the fact that Sam might have a thing for her commanding officer. Not a hint that the man was in anyway intimidated by him. But then, Pete was a cop, he had a gun, who the hell would intimidate a guy with a gun at his side.
Jack wanted intimidate him.
There was less than a moment in which Jack’s mind snapped, the anger taking over, that old red mist forming, and he had the cop back against the wall of Sam’s hallway, door still open, and his lips hard on Pete’s.
He pressed his whole body up against his, he was a little taller than Pete, had to stoop a little to press his crotch hard into his and kiss the man, bite at his lips. Not nibble, but bite and try to draw blood. He was angry, furious and that fury was blocking the thought that this was the first time he had kissed a man. Blocking out the realisation that Pete was kissing him back with just as much anger, and passion.
This was the first time he had been this angry but not the first time he had been this passionate. He didn’t like to think the two were connected either.
The fury was blocking out most thoughts.
It was intensified when, in Sam’s bedroom, on Sam’s bed, stripped completely of their clothes, Pete leaned over towards the cabinet beside her bed, her bed, on his stomach and pulled out some lube from the bottom of it. The fury was intensified when he handed it to Jack, without a word and waited, smiling almost.
The fury couldn’t stop him from making this huge mistake.
Anger and regret were closely related too, Jack knew that one, but it didn’t stop him from fucking her boyfriend in her bed. He couldn’t see properly. His vision blurred by tears that he didn’t even realise he was shedding and he could only feel as he dug his fingers into Pete’s skin, and thrust hard into the man’s tight body. He was a good looking guy, strong legs, good chest, but Jack wasn’t thinking about that, was only thinking about Sam and how angry he was. He didn’t even think about how good it felt, how good it smelt, lube and sweat and sex. It wasn’t something he’d experienced before and he wasn’t really experiencing it now because he was so damn angry and he was only thinking about Sam. His eyes were open and he was looking at a little round scar on the man’s back, not really taking it in, just thinking about Sam but not her body because this was Pete, this was a man, and it felt really good, he could feel himself getting close, puffing out air with force as he moved, but he wasn’t really enjoying it, he was just there and when Pete came, groaning ‘fucking hell’, he stopped moving completely. The man was shaking beneath him and the haze of anger was passing now and he was in serious denial because he was so close, a few more strokes and he would be shaking too, furious but coming.
Pete’s voice had done it and Jack was really wishing the man had said something sooner. He pulled out in one clean movement, letting Pete collapse onto the bed, her bed, and stood up. He picked up his jeans and pulled them on, zipping them up carefully and ignoring Pete as he too stood up, until he felt the man put a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around and punched Pete in the jaw, hard, sending him reeling backwards, stumbling a little. He regained his balance as Jack pulled on his shirt and socks, feeling his jaw and watched him storm off minutes later, shoes in hand, while he stood there naked and bruised.
*
Jack drank himself to sleep that night, punching a hole in the plaster board wall of his bedroom and waking up tasting the carpet of his hallway where he had ended up, debating the anger and sex with himself, berating himself, contemplating suicide. He asked Kerry out when the hang over finally passed. Not so much to reaffirm his own heterosexuality (though it would help) but to forget about Sam. He done something terrible. It was either fuck another woman, and pretend nothing had happened, or shoot himself.
He could pretend for a while. He’d gotten good at that over the years. He could fuck Kerry and think of Sam and try to forget about what it felt like to fuck Pete. Or try to remember what it felt like to fuck Pete through the dazed anger.
He didn’t know how the man passed off the bruised jaw. She never mentioned it, not to him anyway. He was never going to ask and he didn’t want to know. He wanted to tear the man to pieces, when he was alone, drunk, in the dark and thinking morbidly.
What had disturbed him most was that Pete had wanted it, wanted him. He kissed him back, he found the lube, he came. He enjoyed it and Jack wanted to tell Sam, tell Sam her fiancé had cheated on her, but it would destroy everything.
Worst of all, he knew, he’d do it all again.