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tellitslantTitle: Fighting Chance 1 – The One I've Wanted
Author:tellitslant
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Characters/pairing: Sam/Janet
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 5700
Disclaimer: Characters are property of MGM etc. This is a transformative work; no infringement is intended.
Thanks: Tosophia_gratia, whose betas are the bestest.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
halfamoon 2012.
Warnings: None. Post-ep for 1x13, "Hathor."
Summary: Following the events of "Hathor," Sam gets up the courage to ask Janet out for a drink – just as friends, of course. At least, that's what she thinks at the beginning of the evening.
So who would've thought I'd be sitting here
Thinking my future could be right down the street
After all the loves I have lost over borders and over states
And now I find out that you and I, we drink coffee
At the very same place
Could you be the one?
- Will You Be the One, Melissa Ferrick
*
There are some things you can't go through together without ending up closer friends than you were before, and Sam figures that leading an all-female strike team in an insurrection against the pheromone-bespelled men of the SGC is one of those things. So when all is said and done and she's mostly sure that General Hammond won't be hauling her up on charges, she catches up with Doctor Fraiser in the locker room and invites her out for a drink.
"I don't know about you," she says, "but I could sure use one." She yanks her sweaty tee over her head, wrinkling her nose at it before dropping it in the corner of her locker. She'll deal with it tomorrow.
Janet laughs and sits down heavily on the bench. She pulls off one boot, then the other, and leaves them where they fall, pausing to massage the arches of her feet. "I could use a bunch," she says frankly, her accent showing through just a bit more than usual. "As long as we can go someplace way off-base and neither of us has to drive home after, I'm all yours, Captain."
Sam pauses halfway through unzipping her trousers, then gives herself a mental headshake. Sam, you've got sex on the brain. She can't resist looking over at Janet, though, who looked extremely good in BDUs for once, but looks even better taking them off. Dammit, Carter, quit it! She teeters on one foot, pulling off her trousers, and catches herself on the locker door with a loud clang. Janet's head snaps up, and Sam gives her an embarrassed smile, feeling herself blush a bright red. She turns away and fumbles for her jeans. "I, ah, I don't know a lot of places off the beaten track," she says, too quickly. "Just the usual flyboy spots around here. You know anyplace good?"
Janet nods, shimmying out of her uniform trousers as Sam hops gracelessly into her jeans. "There's a couple of decent bars out my way. Not too crazy on a weeknight. You can park at mine and we'll share a cab?"
"Yeah?" Sam catches the surprise in her voice and repeats herself more firmly. "I mean, yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I gotta go home first - " She gestures at her civvies, which had been laundry-day wear to begin with and really aren't worth being seen out in.
"No, I don't think anything of mine would fit you, would it?" Janet laughs up at her. "Come on over when you're properly dressed, Captain, we'll head out from there." She scribbles her address on a scrap piece of paper, and Sam tries to ignore the fact that she doesn't bother to put on pants while she does so; her legs look deceptively long below the hem of her tee.
"Thanks. I won't be long." She clutches the paper in one hand and turns to go, then pauses and looks back. "And hey - off-base it's Sam, all right? No more standing on ceremony?"
"Whatever you want, Captain." Janet winks, bare-legged and smiling; Sam rolls her eyes and leaves.
*
Between involuntary flashes of Janet's pale skin, Sam berates herself all the way home. She can't pretend she didn't notice the other woman before, but today, working together, it felt so different. But this isn't the time, she tells herself firmly. If anything, today proves how important it is that the two of them build a strong friendship rather than anything else. And there wouldn't be anything else, she thinks. Air Force; ex-husband... there's nothing there. She's just feeling particularly - libidinous, a traitorous voice in Sam's head murmurs with Janet's accent. She thinks of Janet's lips shaping the word in that cell and pulls into her own driveway, punching the gearshift into neutral and yanking on the emergency brake harder than she needs to.
Maybe drinks were a bad idea. She doesn't have Janet's number, though, so short of standing her up, there's nothing to do but get changed and head back out. She forces herself not to spend too long looking through her closet; she's not trying to impress anyone. Yeah, right, Carter. Pull the other one.
She needs to clear her head, and so she leaves the car where it is, rolling her bike out of the garage instead. Her leather jacket is an old familiar friend and the roar of the wind past her helmet drowns out her thoughts. She turns into Janet's very suburban street and cuts the engine, and in the emphatic silence that follows, the wonders if she's made a mistake.
Janet's door swings open before Sam makes it up the walk, and she stands in the doorway, waiting. Sam feels absurdly as though she should have brought flowers; instead she shifts her helmet under her arm and tries to smile without letting her thoughts show on her face.
"You clean up nice, Captain - Sam," Janet says, stepping back just enough to let Sam into the house. "Let's get this show on the road." She heads into the kitchen before Sam can return the compliment. They're both in jeans and tee-shirts, but Janet makes even that look elegant somehow, the seams of the denim following her curves in ways Sam's pretty sure her own cheap Levi's knockoffs don't manage. Drinks, she reminds herself, setting her helmet out of the way. Friends. Nothing else.
She hovers awkwardly in the doorway until she hears Janet on the phone, calling for a cab, and then she takes a few more steps further in and leans against the kitchen counter, trying to look casual. "So where are we going?" she asks as Janet hangs up. If she were looking - which she isn't - she'd swear that Janet's eyes run over her body in a very more-than-friends way. It's probably the leather jacket, she figures, and hopes she won't get another lecture on riding a donor-cycle like doctors like to give.
Janet drags her eyes back to Sam's face. "Just a little place I know nearby. It's nothing special, but it's got beer and a pool table and the best pulled pork outside of South Carolina."
"What more could we want?" Sam quips. The humour dies in her throat as she sees Janet's eyes flash. Yeah, there's something more she wants. But she can't have it. So they'll get a little drunk and she'll take some money off people at pool, and that'll be enough. It'll have to be.
*
It takes about half a pint before they start to unwind. Sam's eyeing the pool table and wondering about the competition when Janet puts down her glass. "So, Sam," she smirks. "Just how intimately acquainted are you with the Women Behind Bars movie series?"
Sam sputters helplessly into her beer, choking on foam. She fumbles the glass onto the table and coughs, eyes streaming, while Janet watches placidly. "What?" she manages finally, scrubbing at her watering eyes.
"Oh, come on," Janet says, the sparkle in her eye contradicting the innocence of her tone. "When we were all in the cell, you said you felt like you were in a Women Behind Bars movie. I was just wondering what a nice gal like you was doing namedropping a series like that." She shrugs and cradles her pint, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
Sam mops beer off her chin with a napkin, trying to come up with a way to tell the truth - that she's never actually seen the series, just heard of it - but not the whole truth - that she has made a pretty exhaustive survey of a lot of lesbian porn, because what else are you supposed to do when you're military other than take matters into your own hands. Janet's not helping, smiling at her demurely but clearly not willing to back down.
She finally runs out of ways to stall, and Janet is still waiting. "They're not really my thing," she says at last, which has the virtue of being completely true. "But, you know, you hear stuff." She looks down at the puddles of beer on the table and moves them around with her napkin.
For a miracle, Janet doesn't push, only reaches over with her napkin to wipe at some foam that Sam's missed on her own cheek. She sits back and raises her glass, and Sam nods towards the pool table. "Do you want a game?"
"Nah," Janet says, and smiles. "But I'll watch you play."
Sam takes her pint and wanders over to the table, running a considering hand over the felt; it's pretty smooth, and when a guy at the bar comes over, she takes him up on his offer of a game. It takes her a few minutes to get warmed up, let the cue run through her fingers in a way that matches the math in her head, but she ekes out a victory and beats the next challenger cleanly, and when she looks up from sinking the eight ball Janet is watching her. She hands the cue over to the next player absently, eyes fixed on Janet's.
She waves down the server for another round, but it's not till she gets back to their table that she realizes Janet is already one ahead of her; two empty pint glasses sit in front of her, compared to Sam's one. Sam raises an eyebrow as the waiter swiftly trades the empties for two full glasses. That's not much for her, but someone Janet's size? "In a hurry?" she asks as Janet wraps slim fingers around her new pint.
Janet lets out a sigh, and Sam is surprised to see her hands tremble. "Oh, hey, I didn't mean - are you okay?" Sam asks. She wavers for a moment before laying her hand over one of Janet's. "It wasn't that bad, today, was it?"
Janet shakes her head and gulps at her beer. Her hand is tense under Sam's, her posture rigid. "It's not that," she says, her voice already blurred by alcohol. "It was just... I was really worried about Hathor," she says, darting a glance at Sam as if the admission is a shameful one.
Sam squeezes Janet's hand. For all her competence in the field, it's easy to forget that Janet's more experienced in the infirmary. "No surprise," she says. "It was pretty touch-and-go for a while there. We were all worried."
"No," Janet says intensely, focused on her beer. Sam looks at her in surprise. "Well, yes, but - I wasn't worried about what would happen. I figured we'd pull it off. I was worried about me." She bites her lip, looking very young, somehow. "I was worried I'd be affected."
"Affected?" Sam blinks in confusion. "By what?"
Janet tugs her hand away from Sam's and shifts in her seat, looking away. "Nothing. Never mind." She laughs nervously. "Look, I'm a little tipsy. Why don't we order some food, or else you're going to end up carrying me home." She smiles at Sam, bright and false. "And we don't want that, do we? You order, I've gotta make room for more beer."
She bounds up to run to the bathroom, leaving Sam staring after her, wondering. Affected? What could Janet have been affected by? One of the Goa'uld larvae? That could be it; she had hosts as patients, she knew exactly what to be afraid of.
But why would she be ashamed of that? Everybody hates those things; Sam feels the hair at the back of her neck prickle just at the memory of them writhing on the floor. There's nothing shameful in having the sense to be afraid of an alien interloper in one's own body.
Sam skims the plastic menu, still working on the problem in the back of her mind. "Ready to order, hun?" the waiter asks, popping up beside her.
"Oh, uh, yeah. I'll have the buffalo burger, medium-well, and she'll have – " Sam pauses, trying to remember what Janet had said about this place. "She'll have the pulled pork," she finishes, oddly proud of herself.
The waiter scribbles on his pad. "How about some fries to share?"
"Sounds great." Sam hands him the menus with a smile.
"That'll be out in about fifteen minutes." He props the menu on his hip and grins. "You ladies having a good time?"
"It's a nice place," Sam answers noncommittally.
"It is that." He winks. "I'll get the kitchen to put a rush on, so you can go enjoy the rest of your evening."
Sam watches him go, a little confused. The rest of their evening? Oh. He thought they were on a date. Sam laughs a little. She wishes.
All at once, Sam's stomach bottoms out and then swoops up into her throat as she gets it. Sam had just figured that Hathor could only control guys, but there was no reason to assume that the pheromonal influence was linked to sex and not sexual attraction. In theory, Hathor could have affected any woman who might be interested in other women. The thought never even occurred to Sam; she takes a swig of beer to wet her suddenly dry mouth, thanking her lucky stars that it didn't. What a way to get outed. It did occur to Janet, though. And she worried. Which means Janet Fraiser is attracted to women.
Oh, wow.
Sam's not sure what to do with that knowledge. She turns it over in her brain as Janet sits back down; they wait for their food and chat a little about nothing in particular. Sam gives herself permission to watch Janet in the way she's been denying herself for weeks: her lips, her hands, the way her hair curls just out of order at the nape of her neck. All the things Sam's been ignoring, telling herself there's no way Janet's anything but straight - she notices them, and she wonders if Janet's been noticing her in return.
It takes her to the bottom of her second pint before she works up the courage to ask, even obliquely. "So," she says, drawing abstract designs in a puddle of ketchup with a french fry. "You mentioned your ex-husband. Was it that your career got in the way?"
Janet withdraws into herself just slightly; if Sam hadn't been watching, she wouldn't have seen it. "Kinda," Janet says. She fidgets with the paper lining the basket of fries. "It really just didn't work out with us, in the end."
"So... not because of anything that might've made you susceptible to Hathor's, um, charms?" Sam swallows nervously.
"What makes you think that?" Janet asks blandly. Sam wonders for a moment if she's guessed wrong and how to backpedal out of the conversation. Then she sees Janet's knuckles whiten as she twists the paper nervously, and she knows.
"Janet, don't." Sam captures Janet's hands in hers, holding them flat on the table. "I'm sorry - it took me a while. But I'm right, right? You were worried about Hathor being able to control you?" After a moment, Janet gives a tiny nod. Her entire body seems to relax with the admission; she takes a breath like she's finally free to expand her lungs all the way. Sam presses on. "And it's because you like, um, because you like - " She doesn't want to say it, just in case she's wrong.
"Because I like women?" Janet's regained her equilibrium. She glances up at Sam through dark lashes. "Yeah, Sam. That's why." She runs her thumb along the curve of Sam's wrist. "You... weren't having the same worries, were you?"
"It hadn't occurred to me," Sam says, honestly enough. It's hard, so hard, to break the habits drilled into her for her entire career, but she tightens her grip on Janet's hands and her voice hardly wobbles at all. "But, if it had, yeah. Yeah. I would've been worried."
They sit there for a moment, frozen by the weight of their mutual revelation.
"Ladies!" The server grabs their empty plates, and they startle and jerk apart. He ignores them, stacking plates and glasses on his arm. "Another round?" he asks. They nod in sync.
*
Whether it's the beer or the freedom of being honest with each other, both Sam and Janet are giggly and silly when they finally leave the bar. They stand on the sidewalk, waiting for the cab, and Janet shivers and presses herself closer to Sam. "I like the leather," she says, running her fingers along the sleeve of Sam's jacket. "I didn't know you were a biker chick. Fast bikes, fast planes... I shoulda guessed earlier."
"Guessed?" Sam hugs Janet closer to her. "I work hard to keep my private life private," she says, feigning stiffness before dissolving into giggles.
"Yeah, sure," Janet says. "The hair, that's really subtle." She reaches up and ruffles Sam's short hair, running her fingers around the curve of Sam's ear. Sam shivers, her hand closing convulsively on Janet's shoulder, and then the cab pulls up.
Sam hesitates for just a second before she gets in. She's suddenly regretting parking at Janet's. They have to go back there together now, and that's just gotten a lot more complicated. They haven't talked about it, but just because they're both interested in women doesn't mean that they're interested in each other. Or, okay, it doesn't mean that Janet's interested in her, because she's known for a while that she's interested in Janet. Well, she can always leave the bike there, come back for it in the morning. If nothing else, it'll be nice to have someone on the base who knows.
She's nearly reasoned herself into a completely platonic friendship when they pull up at Janet's. "Why don't I head home and pick my bike up in the morning," she starts to say, and Janet looks at her in confusion.
"Why pay an extra fare? Double the fare," she says. "I've got lots of room, Sam. Come on in." She wraps her hand around Sam's wrist and tugs, and Sam follows.
Inside, Janet goes through the house, turning on a few soft lights, while Sam kicks off her boots and steps warily into the living room. She's still not quite sure what the score is, and she startles when Janet steps up beside her, holding two glasses of water. "Take off your coat and stay awhile, Sam," Janet jokes, putting the glasses down on the coffee table. She tugs at the collar of Sam's jacket and pulls it off smoothly. Her hands brush the back of Sam's neck, and Sam's nerves light up. "I'll just put this in the closet," Janet says, and carries Sam's jacket away.
Sam grabs a water glass and takes a gulp, more for something to do with her hands than anything else. What is she doing here? Even if Janet is interested... they can't actually start anything, can they? Working together at the SGC like they do, that's just asking for trouble, isn't it? Bad enough trying to care for someone in that atmosphere, but having to hide it - no, there's no way. She puts down the glass. She should leave. Janet walks back in, and Sam turns to announce her decision. "Janet," she starts.
"Sam," Janet says, walking right into her arms and pulling her head down for a kiss.
Sam means to object, she really does, but Janet's hands twine about her neck and her own hands settle on Janet's hips and everything, everything she meant to say disappears. Janet is warm against her, and when their mouths meet again, open and needy, Sam can't think of a single reason why they shouldn't be doing this.
Janet pulls back after a moment and rests her hands on Sam's shoulders. She licks her lips, looking a little dizzy. "Is this okay?" she asks bluntly.
"Um." Sam blinks. "What?"
Janet laughs softly and kisses her again, just a brief peck. "Is this okay?" She wrinkles her nose and looks uncertain for a moment. "I mean... I want you," she says, and winks. "But I do have a spare room. And you can stay there. We can forget about tonight, or take things slower." She traces circles over the neck of Sam's shirt. "If you want to."
Sam bites her lip, torn. She remembers all the reasons they shouldn't do this, but they seem distant, somehow, less important than the comforting warmth of Janet against her and the taste of her lipgloss. It's against regulations – but they're bad regulations, Sam reasons. And she and Janet aren't likely to see combat together any time soon. And, and, and – and what it boils down to is, Janet is giving her the chance to decide what she wants, and she wants Janet.
"No," she starts, and Janet's face falls and she starts to pull away. Sam holds on to her. "I mean, no, I don't want to stop," she says quickly. "And I really don't want to forget it." Janet smiles blindingly, and Sam leans down to kiss her again.
She tugs at Janet's tee, pulling it up enough to bare the curves of her waist, and slides her hands under it. Janet moans and fists her hands in Sam's hair, tugging gently. "God, yeah, Sam," she mumbles. "Lemme – let me." She steps back and pulls her shirt over her head with more speed than grace, leaving her in a plain black bra. The low rise of her jeans curves just below her navel and Sam's mouth goes dry with desire. She's seen Janet in less in the locker room, but she's always been so careful there, trying not to look like she's looking, trying not to look where she's not allowed. Now she can look all she wants, and if they do this, she'll never have to police her glances again.
"Janet," she says, clasping her hands in front of her so she won't reach out despite herself. One last pause to see if either of them will come to their senses, or if they really are going to go ahead with this insane, amazing choice. "Are you sure?"
Janet smirks and steps forward, running her hands under the waistband of Sam's jeans. Sam shudders. "Come on, Sam," she says, short nails scratching over sensitive skin. "I've seen you looking. Not right away. But I've seen you. Don't try and tell me I'm wrong."
Sam shakes her head and traces a line across Janet's collarbone. "Of course you're not wrong." She summons a tiny smile. "I thought I was being subtle."
Janet laughs. The sound is surprisingly big. "You probably were! But, Sam. I was looking too," she admits. "Don't forget, I know what you look like under those BDUs." She pushes Sam's shirt up and presses an open-mouthed kiss to her belly.
Sam gasps, her skin prickling with belated exposure. "That's... not very professional," she manages, the thought of Janet watching her during her physicals burning within her in an odd combination of embarrassment and arousal.
"Oh, I'm professional when I need to be," Janet assures her. She shoves Sam's shirt up more and kisses her sternum, running her tongue along the side of Sam's bra cup. "But later... I still remember." She tries to push Sam's shirt up further, but it tangles in her dogtags and Janet can't quite get the angle to free it. She bites her lip and shakes her head. "Sorry," she says, laughter warring with embarrassment in her voice.
Sam gets the fabric unwound from the chain and pulls it over her head. There are so many short jokes she wants to make, but she can't, quite, summon the certainty to do so. Another time – if there are other times – but right now they're too new for her to be comfortable teasing. Instead she settles for tossing the shirt aside and bending, again, for another kiss.
She tenses a little as Janet runs gentle fingers over her torso, knowing they're nearing the true point of no return, and Janet sighs and shakes her head. "Still thinking?" she asks. "Let's see if I can't fix that." She drops gracefully to her knees in front of Sam and unbuckles her belt.
Sam gasps and staggers, placing a hand on Janet's head for balance, and Janet hums in approval. "I'm sure, Sam," she says, fingers busy on Sam's button and fly. "Aren't you?" She glances up at Sam, waiting, and the picture she presents is so wildly arousing that all Sam can do is nod. God, how did she get so lucky, she wonders as Janet tugs her jeans down and helps her pull them off one foot, then the other, taking her socks with them.
"Do you trust me?" Janet asks, sitting back on her heels.
"Of course," Sam says immediately, emphatically, and is gratified to see Janet smile in appreciation.
"Then sit down, soldier," she says, nodding at the couch. "I'm gonna rock your world."
"You're full of clichés today, aren't you," Sam mutters, but she sits down eagerly.
"Well, they work," Janet points out. "On you as well as that jarhead in the cell, though I'd much rather use them on you. And here's another one." She kneels between Sam's legs, running warm hands over her bare thighs. "I want to taste you everywhere, Samantha Carter." Sam can feel herself flush at the thought, and Janet smiles. "Yeah. Told you they work."
Sam huffs out a reluctant laugh and runs her hand through Janet's hair, remembering how she liked that earlier. She still does, pressing her head back into Sam's touch, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "C'mon, then, Doctor," Sam says, reaching for the same light tone Janet's hitting and feeling herself relax a bit as she finds it. "Show me what'cha got."
"Oh, not so fast," Janet drawls, pressing a kiss to the inside of Sam's right knee. "I did say everywhere." She turns and kisses Sam's left knee next. "No sense in rushing, now, is there?"
Sam exhales shakily and forces herself to stay pliant, and Janet shoots her an approving glance. She lifts Sam's right hand from where it was lying on the couch, tracing the ulnar vein visible through Sam's pale skin. Watching Sam deliberately, she presses her mouth to the same spot; her tongue flicks out, hot against Sam's inner wrist, and Sam jerks. Janet mouths the flesh at the base of Sam's thumb, biting gently. She kisses the tips of each of Sam's fingers in turn, and Sam drags her nails across Janet's full lips.
It's Janet's turn to shiver, and Sam cups her chin, wondering if the power balance is finally going to swing the other way. "You like that?" she asks quietly.
"Yeah," Janet breathes, and immediately proves that Sam isn't likely to have the upper hand any time soon by sliding her mouth down over Sam's index finger.
Sam moans as Janet's tongue traces a path up from the base of her finger to the tip, teasing at the creases of her joints. Janet's teeth nip at the side of Sam's finger and then her tongue soothes the hurt, and Sam closes her eyes and lets her head fall back.
"You like that?" Janet asks, releasing Sam's finger.
"God, yeah," Sam groans.
"You want my mouth on you?"
"Fuck." Sam's hips jerk just at the thought of Janet's tongue against her clit. "Yeah, I do."
"Too bad," Janet whispers, sliding Sam's index and middle fingers into her mouth this time and slipping her tongue between them.
Sam whimpers helplessly and squirms, pressing her thighs together. Janet is – God, she's hardly touched her and yet she's on the edge already. Janet's mouth on her fingers is an incredible promise, but it's not enough, and Sam pushes aside her bra to run a rough thumb over her own nipple.
Janet makes a hungry sound and pulls away. "God, Sam," she says. She tugs Sam's grey cotton briefs down off her hips and over her feet, and then grabs Sam's wrist again and pulls her hand, fingers still wet from Janet's mouth, between her legs. "Sam - show me what you like?" she asks, hands on Sam's thighs, spreading her open.
Sam shifts, uncertain. "Janet, I don't – " she starts.
"Don't what? Don't do this?" Janet smiles. "'Course you do, Sam. You gonna tell me you haven't touched yourself and thought of me? I have." She runs one hand over her chest and cups her own breast through her bra. Biting her lip, she moans, and Sam almost echoes her, fingers twitching. "Sam, I want to see. I want you to show me."
Sam takes a breath and gropes after some way to even the scales. "And if I do?" she asks.
Janet lights up with triumph. "Okay. Show me what you like, and maybe I'll tell you a story to go with it." She winks, and Sam knows she's lost the battle.
She starts more slowly than she's used to; her own touch is familiar, but Janet, watching, isn't, and it makes her a little self-conscious. She's slick and hot and so, so sensitive, though, and her fingers are slippery because they were just in Janet's mouth and oh, yeah, that thought is enough to get her hips rocking against her own hand. She teases at her entrance, letting herself feel just how wet she is, and then Janet starts speaking.
"The first time I caught you looking," she says, "it was in the commissary. It was lunchtime, and SG-1 was scheduled to go offworld later that day. I turned and saw you staring into space and thought, wow, Captain Carter's working so hard on ways to save the world." Sam groans at the sound of her title in Janet's accent, stroking herself. She hopes this won't trigger a Pavlovian response.
Janet continues, her thumbs drawing circles on the inside of Sam's thighs. "And then you saw me watching you and you jerked away, and I wondered, what if you weren't thinking about the Goa'uld. What if," she drags her nails across Sam's skin, "you were thinking about me." Her voice drops and Sam's fingers speed up. She's beyond embarrassment, now. Her whole body is tingling with the need to come, but she doesn't want Janet to stop talking, so she grits her teeth and hangs on.
"I went home that night and I thought, my God, Samantha Carter, thinking about little old me." There's a smile in Janet's voice that makes Sam's belly clench. "I wasn't sure yet, but I thought... maybe. And I could imagine. What it'd be like if I came up to your lab one day and you were alone." One of Janet's hands disappears from Sam's leg and her breath catches. She's touching herself too, Sam realizes, and it's that more than anything that sends her on that last steep climb to coming.
"I'd pull you away from your microscope and ask you, 'Captain Carter, you've been watching me. Do you like what you see?' And then I'd push you up against the lab bench and I'd kiss you and – oh, God, Sam, God, you look gorgeous, yeah – " but Sam isn't listening any more. Her entire body clenches as her pulse throbs inside her cunt, and then the heat bursts outwards, concentric circles of pleasure radiating from her clit. Her toes curl and her brow furrows and she holds her breath as electric waves rush over her, until the intensity abates and she can draw a shuddering breath again. She opens her eyes and looks straight into Janet's.
There's no time for self-consciousness, because Janet lurches forward and kisses her, sloppy and fast and without any of the control she's shown the rest of the night. "Dammit, Sam," she pants, resting her head on Sam's shoulder, "do you have – any idea – how fucking hot – you are?" Her arm moves rhythmically between their bodies and suddenly Sam realizes – she doesn't want to watch Janet come. She wants to make Janet come.
She slides her hands over Janet's body, shoving her jeans and panties down until there's room to maneuver, and cups Janet's hand where it's working between her own legs. "Can I," Sam starts, and "Yeah," Janet says, "yeah - yeah, Sam - yeah," her movements getting more frantic. Sam curls two fingers – the two fingers that were in Janet's mouth, the two fingers she just got herself off with – and slips them inside Janet.
Janet's hand bumps against her wrist and the angle isn't ideal but Sam can feel Janet, feel the way she moves and she can just move with her, and it's worth every second of the back cramp. Janet tries to spread her legs wider, but her jeans get in the way; she makes a frustrated noise and digs her nails into Sam's thigh. "More," she demands, and Sam moves faster, ignoring the burn of denim against the back of her hand. She flexes her fingers and Janet whimpers. "Fuck, Sam, you f-feel so good," she gets out before her climax hits. She's not as quiet as Sam tends to be, gasping and moaning as she grinds against their hands, and Sam decides she can't wait to find out what other sounds Janet will make.
Finally she goes limp and Sam slides her hand away carefully. She raises it to her lips, catches Janet's eye, and smiles as she sucks the tips of her fingers briefly into her own mouth. Janet chuckles and shoves the hair out of her face with one hand.
"So, Doctor," Sam says, tracing her wet fingers along Janet's bottom lip. "Any other fantasies you want to share?"
"Right now?" Janet shakes her head. Kicking her tangled jeans and panties off, she clambers up on the couch and straddles Sam. "I think we're doing pretty good with reality, don't you?" She kisses Sam again and reaches to finally undo her bra, and Sam wraps her hands around Janet's waist and silently agrees.
Author:
tellitslantFandom: Stargate: SG-1
Characters/pairing: Sam/Janet
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 5700
Disclaimer: Characters are property of MGM etc. This is a transformative work; no infringement is intended.
Thanks: To
sophia_gratia, whose betas are the bestest.Notes: Written for
halfamoon 2012.Warnings: None. Post-ep for 1x13, "Hathor."
Summary: Following the events of "Hathor," Sam gets up the courage to ask Janet out for a drink – just as friends, of course. At least, that's what she thinks at the beginning of the evening.
So who would've thought I'd be sitting here
Thinking my future could be right down the street
After all the loves I have lost over borders and over states
And now I find out that you and I, we drink coffee
At the very same place
Could you be the one?
- Will You Be the One, Melissa Ferrick
*
There are some things you can't go through together without ending up closer friends than you were before, and Sam figures that leading an all-female strike team in an insurrection against the pheromone-bespelled men of the SGC is one of those things. So when all is said and done and she's mostly sure that General Hammond won't be hauling her up on charges, she catches up with Doctor Fraiser in the locker room and invites her out for a drink.
"I don't know about you," she says, "but I could sure use one." She yanks her sweaty tee over her head, wrinkling her nose at it before dropping it in the corner of her locker. She'll deal with it tomorrow.
Janet laughs and sits down heavily on the bench. She pulls off one boot, then the other, and leaves them where they fall, pausing to massage the arches of her feet. "I could use a bunch," she says frankly, her accent showing through just a bit more than usual. "As long as we can go someplace way off-base and neither of us has to drive home after, I'm all yours, Captain."
Sam pauses halfway through unzipping her trousers, then gives herself a mental headshake. Sam, you've got sex on the brain. She can't resist looking over at Janet, though, who looked extremely good in BDUs for once, but looks even better taking them off. Dammit, Carter, quit it! She teeters on one foot, pulling off her trousers, and catches herself on the locker door with a loud clang. Janet's head snaps up, and Sam gives her an embarrassed smile, feeling herself blush a bright red. She turns away and fumbles for her jeans. "I, ah, I don't know a lot of places off the beaten track," she says, too quickly. "Just the usual flyboy spots around here. You know anyplace good?"
Janet nods, shimmying out of her uniform trousers as Sam hops gracelessly into her jeans. "There's a couple of decent bars out my way. Not too crazy on a weeknight. You can park at mine and we'll share a cab?"
"Yeah?" Sam catches the surprise in her voice and repeats herself more firmly. "I mean, yeah, that sounds like a great idea. I gotta go home first - " She gestures at her civvies, which had been laundry-day wear to begin with and really aren't worth being seen out in.
"No, I don't think anything of mine would fit you, would it?" Janet laughs up at her. "Come on over when you're properly dressed, Captain, we'll head out from there." She scribbles her address on a scrap piece of paper, and Sam tries to ignore the fact that she doesn't bother to put on pants while she does so; her legs look deceptively long below the hem of her tee.
"Thanks. I won't be long." She clutches the paper in one hand and turns to go, then pauses and looks back. "And hey - off-base it's Sam, all right? No more standing on ceremony?"
"Whatever you want, Captain." Janet winks, bare-legged and smiling; Sam rolls her eyes and leaves.
*
Between involuntary flashes of Janet's pale skin, Sam berates herself all the way home. She can't pretend she didn't notice the other woman before, but today, working together, it felt so different. But this isn't the time, she tells herself firmly. If anything, today proves how important it is that the two of them build a strong friendship rather than anything else. And there wouldn't be anything else, she thinks. Air Force; ex-husband... there's nothing there. She's just feeling particularly - libidinous, a traitorous voice in Sam's head murmurs with Janet's accent. She thinks of Janet's lips shaping the word in that cell and pulls into her own driveway, punching the gearshift into neutral and yanking on the emergency brake harder than she needs to.
Maybe drinks were a bad idea. She doesn't have Janet's number, though, so short of standing her up, there's nothing to do but get changed and head back out. She forces herself not to spend too long looking through her closet; she's not trying to impress anyone. Yeah, right, Carter. Pull the other one.
She needs to clear her head, and so she leaves the car where it is, rolling her bike out of the garage instead. Her leather jacket is an old familiar friend and the roar of the wind past her helmet drowns out her thoughts. She turns into Janet's very suburban street and cuts the engine, and in the emphatic silence that follows, the wonders if she's made a mistake.
Janet's door swings open before Sam makes it up the walk, and she stands in the doorway, waiting. Sam feels absurdly as though she should have brought flowers; instead she shifts her helmet under her arm and tries to smile without letting her thoughts show on her face.
"You clean up nice, Captain - Sam," Janet says, stepping back just enough to let Sam into the house. "Let's get this show on the road." She heads into the kitchen before Sam can return the compliment. They're both in jeans and tee-shirts, but Janet makes even that look elegant somehow, the seams of the denim following her curves in ways Sam's pretty sure her own cheap Levi's knockoffs don't manage. Drinks, she reminds herself, setting her helmet out of the way. Friends. Nothing else.
She hovers awkwardly in the doorway until she hears Janet on the phone, calling for a cab, and then she takes a few more steps further in and leans against the kitchen counter, trying to look casual. "So where are we going?" she asks as Janet hangs up. If she were looking - which she isn't - she'd swear that Janet's eyes run over her body in a very more-than-friends way. It's probably the leather jacket, she figures, and hopes she won't get another lecture on riding a donor-cycle like doctors like to give.
Janet drags her eyes back to Sam's face. "Just a little place I know nearby. It's nothing special, but it's got beer and a pool table and the best pulled pork outside of South Carolina."
"What more could we want?" Sam quips. The humour dies in her throat as she sees Janet's eyes flash. Yeah, there's something more she wants. But she can't have it. So they'll get a little drunk and she'll take some money off people at pool, and that'll be enough. It'll have to be.
*
It takes about half a pint before they start to unwind. Sam's eyeing the pool table and wondering about the competition when Janet puts down her glass. "So, Sam," she smirks. "Just how intimately acquainted are you with the Women Behind Bars movie series?"
Sam sputters helplessly into her beer, choking on foam. She fumbles the glass onto the table and coughs, eyes streaming, while Janet watches placidly. "What?" she manages finally, scrubbing at her watering eyes.
"Oh, come on," Janet says, the sparkle in her eye contradicting the innocence of her tone. "When we were all in the cell, you said you felt like you were in a Women Behind Bars movie. I was just wondering what a nice gal like you was doing namedropping a series like that." She shrugs and cradles her pint, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
Sam mops beer off her chin with a napkin, trying to come up with a way to tell the truth - that she's never actually seen the series, just heard of it - but not the whole truth - that she has made a pretty exhaustive survey of a lot of lesbian porn, because what else are you supposed to do when you're military other than take matters into your own hands. Janet's not helping, smiling at her demurely but clearly not willing to back down.
She finally runs out of ways to stall, and Janet is still waiting. "They're not really my thing," she says at last, which has the virtue of being completely true. "But, you know, you hear stuff." She looks down at the puddles of beer on the table and moves them around with her napkin.
For a miracle, Janet doesn't push, only reaches over with her napkin to wipe at some foam that Sam's missed on her own cheek. She sits back and raises her glass, and Sam nods towards the pool table. "Do you want a game?"
"Nah," Janet says, and smiles. "But I'll watch you play."
Sam takes her pint and wanders over to the table, running a considering hand over the felt; it's pretty smooth, and when a guy at the bar comes over, she takes him up on his offer of a game. It takes her a few minutes to get warmed up, let the cue run through her fingers in a way that matches the math in her head, but she ekes out a victory and beats the next challenger cleanly, and when she looks up from sinking the eight ball Janet is watching her. She hands the cue over to the next player absently, eyes fixed on Janet's.
She waves down the server for another round, but it's not till she gets back to their table that she realizes Janet is already one ahead of her; two empty pint glasses sit in front of her, compared to Sam's one. Sam raises an eyebrow as the waiter swiftly trades the empties for two full glasses. That's not much for her, but someone Janet's size? "In a hurry?" she asks as Janet wraps slim fingers around her new pint.
Janet lets out a sigh, and Sam is surprised to see her hands tremble. "Oh, hey, I didn't mean - are you okay?" Sam asks. She wavers for a moment before laying her hand over one of Janet's. "It wasn't that bad, today, was it?"
Janet shakes her head and gulps at her beer. Her hand is tense under Sam's, her posture rigid. "It's not that," she says, her voice already blurred by alcohol. "It was just... I was really worried about Hathor," she says, darting a glance at Sam as if the admission is a shameful one.
Sam squeezes Janet's hand. For all her competence in the field, it's easy to forget that Janet's more experienced in the infirmary. "No surprise," she says. "It was pretty touch-and-go for a while there. We were all worried."
"No," Janet says intensely, focused on her beer. Sam looks at her in surprise. "Well, yes, but - I wasn't worried about what would happen. I figured we'd pull it off. I was worried about me." She bites her lip, looking very young, somehow. "I was worried I'd be affected."
"Affected?" Sam blinks in confusion. "By what?"
Janet tugs her hand away from Sam's and shifts in her seat, looking away. "Nothing. Never mind." She laughs nervously. "Look, I'm a little tipsy. Why don't we order some food, or else you're going to end up carrying me home." She smiles at Sam, bright and false. "And we don't want that, do we? You order, I've gotta make room for more beer."
She bounds up to run to the bathroom, leaving Sam staring after her, wondering. Affected? What could Janet have been affected by? One of the Goa'uld larvae? That could be it; she had hosts as patients, she knew exactly what to be afraid of.
But why would she be ashamed of that? Everybody hates those things; Sam feels the hair at the back of her neck prickle just at the memory of them writhing on the floor. There's nothing shameful in having the sense to be afraid of an alien interloper in one's own body.
Sam skims the plastic menu, still working on the problem in the back of her mind. "Ready to order, hun?" the waiter asks, popping up beside her.
"Oh, uh, yeah. I'll have the buffalo burger, medium-well, and she'll have – " Sam pauses, trying to remember what Janet had said about this place. "She'll have the pulled pork," she finishes, oddly proud of herself.
The waiter scribbles on his pad. "How about some fries to share?"
"Sounds great." Sam hands him the menus with a smile.
"That'll be out in about fifteen minutes." He props the menu on his hip and grins. "You ladies having a good time?"
"It's a nice place," Sam answers noncommittally.
"It is that." He winks. "I'll get the kitchen to put a rush on, so you can go enjoy the rest of your evening."
Sam watches him go, a little confused. The rest of their evening? Oh. He thought they were on a date. Sam laughs a little. She wishes.
All at once, Sam's stomach bottoms out and then swoops up into her throat as she gets it. Sam had just figured that Hathor could only control guys, but there was no reason to assume that the pheromonal influence was linked to sex and not sexual attraction. In theory, Hathor could have affected any woman who might be interested in other women. The thought never even occurred to Sam; she takes a swig of beer to wet her suddenly dry mouth, thanking her lucky stars that it didn't. What a way to get outed. It did occur to Janet, though. And she worried. Which means Janet Fraiser is attracted to women.
Oh, wow.
Sam's not sure what to do with that knowledge. She turns it over in her brain as Janet sits back down; they wait for their food and chat a little about nothing in particular. Sam gives herself permission to watch Janet in the way she's been denying herself for weeks: her lips, her hands, the way her hair curls just out of order at the nape of her neck. All the things Sam's been ignoring, telling herself there's no way Janet's anything but straight - she notices them, and she wonders if Janet's been noticing her in return.
It takes her to the bottom of her second pint before she works up the courage to ask, even obliquely. "So," she says, drawing abstract designs in a puddle of ketchup with a french fry. "You mentioned your ex-husband. Was it that your career got in the way?"
Janet withdraws into herself just slightly; if Sam hadn't been watching, she wouldn't have seen it. "Kinda," Janet says. She fidgets with the paper lining the basket of fries. "It really just didn't work out with us, in the end."
"So... not because of anything that might've made you susceptible to Hathor's, um, charms?" Sam swallows nervously.
"What makes you think that?" Janet asks blandly. Sam wonders for a moment if she's guessed wrong and how to backpedal out of the conversation. Then she sees Janet's knuckles whiten as she twists the paper nervously, and she knows.
"Janet, don't." Sam captures Janet's hands in hers, holding them flat on the table. "I'm sorry - it took me a while. But I'm right, right? You were worried about Hathor being able to control you?" After a moment, Janet gives a tiny nod. Her entire body seems to relax with the admission; she takes a breath like she's finally free to expand her lungs all the way. Sam presses on. "And it's because you like, um, because you like - " She doesn't want to say it, just in case she's wrong.
"Because I like women?" Janet's regained her equilibrium. She glances up at Sam through dark lashes. "Yeah, Sam. That's why." She runs her thumb along the curve of Sam's wrist. "You... weren't having the same worries, were you?"
"It hadn't occurred to me," Sam says, honestly enough. It's hard, so hard, to break the habits drilled into her for her entire career, but she tightens her grip on Janet's hands and her voice hardly wobbles at all. "But, if it had, yeah. Yeah. I would've been worried."
They sit there for a moment, frozen by the weight of their mutual revelation.
"Ladies!" The server grabs their empty plates, and they startle and jerk apart. He ignores them, stacking plates and glasses on his arm. "Another round?" he asks. They nod in sync.
*
Whether it's the beer or the freedom of being honest with each other, both Sam and Janet are giggly and silly when they finally leave the bar. They stand on the sidewalk, waiting for the cab, and Janet shivers and presses herself closer to Sam. "I like the leather," she says, running her fingers along the sleeve of Sam's jacket. "I didn't know you were a biker chick. Fast bikes, fast planes... I shoulda guessed earlier."
"Guessed?" Sam hugs Janet closer to her. "I work hard to keep my private life private," she says, feigning stiffness before dissolving into giggles.
"Yeah, sure," Janet says. "The hair, that's really subtle." She reaches up and ruffles Sam's short hair, running her fingers around the curve of Sam's ear. Sam shivers, her hand closing convulsively on Janet's shoulder, and then the cab pulls up.
Sam hesitates for just a second before she gets in. She's suddenly regretting parking at Janet's. They have to go back there together now, and that's just gotten a lot more complicated. They haven't talked about it, but just because they're both interested in women doesn't mean that they're interested in each other. Or, okay, it doesn't mean that Janet's interested in her, because she's known for a while that she's interested in Janet. Well, she can always leave the bike there, come back for it in the morning. If nothing else, it'll be nice to have someone on the base who knows.
She's nearly reasoned herself into a completely platonic friendship when they pull up at Janet's. "Why don't I head home and pick my bike up in the morning," she starts to say, and Janet looks at her in confusion.
"Why pay an extra fare? Double the fare," she says. "I've got lots of room, Sam. Come on in." She wraps her hand around Sam's wrist and tugs, and Sam follows.
Inside, Janet goes through the house, turning on a few soft lights, while Sam kicks off her boots and steps warily into the living room. She's still not quite sure what the score is, and she startles when Janet steps up beside her, holding two glasses of water. "Take off your coat and stay awhile, Sam," Janet jokes, putting the glasses down on the coffee table. She tugs at the collar of Sam's jacket and pulls it off smoothly. Her hands brush the back of Sam's neck, and Sam's nerves light up. "I'll just put this in the closet," Janet says, and carries Sam's jacket away.
Sam grabs a water glass and takes a gulp, more for something to do with her hands than anything else. What is she doing here? Even if Janet is interested... they can't actually start anything, can they? Working together at the SGC like they do, that's just asking for trouble, isn't it? Bad enough trying to care for someone in that atmosphere, but having to hide it - no, there's no way. She puts down the glass. She should leave. Janet walks back in, and Sam turns to announce her decision. "Janet," she starts.
"Sam," Janet says, walking right into her arms and pulling her head down for a kiss.
Sam means to object, she really does, but Janet's hands twine about her neck and her own hands settle on Janet's hips and everything, everything she meant to say disappears. Janet is warm against her, and when their mouths meet again, open and needy, Sam can't think of a single reason why they shouldn't be doing this.
Janet pulls back after a moment and rests her hands on Sam's shoulders. She licks her lips, looking a little dizzy. "Is this okay?" she asks bluntly.
"Um." Sam blinks. "What?"
Janet laughs softly and kisses her again, just a brief peck. "Is this okay?" She wrinkles her nose and looks uncertain for a moment. "I mean... I want you," she says, and winks. "But I do have a spare room. And you can stay there. We can forget about tonight, or take things slower." She traces circles over the neck of Sam's shirt. "If you want to."
Sam bites her lip, torn. She remembers all the reasons they shouldn't do this, but they seem distant, somehow, less important than the comforting warmth of Janet against her and the taste of her lipgloss. It's against regulations – but they're bad regulations, Sam reasons. And she and Janet aren't likely to see combat together any time soon. And, and, and – and what it boils down to is, Janet is giving her the chance to decide what she wants, and she wants Janet.
"No," she starts, and Janet's face falls and she starts to pull away. Sam holds on to her. "I mean, no, I don't want to stop," she says quickly. "And I really don't want to forget it." Janet smiles blindingly, and Sam leans down to kiss her again.
She tugs at Janet's tee, pulling it up enough to bare the curves of her waist, and slides her hands under it. Janet moans and fists her hands in Sam's hair, tugging gently. "God, yeah, Sam," she mumbles. "Lemme – let me." She steps back and pulls her shirt over her head with more speed than grace, leaving her in a plain black bra. The low rise of her jeans curves just below her navel and Sam's mouth goes dry with desire. She's seen Janet in less in the locker room, but she's always been so careful there, trying not to look like she's looking, trying not to look where she's not allowed. Now she can look all she wants, and if they do this, she'll never have to police her glances again.
"Janet," she says, clasping her hands in front of her so she won't reach out despite herself. One last pause to see if either of them will come to their senses, or if they really are going to go ahead with this insane, amazing choice. "Are you sure?"
Janet smirks and steps forward, running her hands under the waistband of Sam's jeans. Sam shudders. "Come on, Sam," she says, short nails scratching over sensitive skin. "I've seen you looking. Not right away. But I've seen you. Don't try and tell me I'm wrong."
Sam shakes her head and traces a line across Janet's collarbone. "Of course you're not wrong." She summons a tiny smile. "I thought I was being subtle."
Janet laughs. The sound is surprisingly big. "You probably were! But, Sam. I was looking too," she admits. "Don't forget, I know what you look like under those BDUs." She pushes Sam's shirt up and presses an open-mouthed kiss to her belly.
Sam gasps, her skin prickling with belated exposure. "That's... not very professional," she manages, the thought of Janet watching her during her physicals burning within her in an odd combination of embarrassment and arousal.
"Oh, I'm professional when I need to be," Janet assures her. She shoves Sam's shirt up more and kisses her sternum, running her tongue along the side of Sam's bra cup. "But later... I still remember." She tries to push Sam's shirt up further, but it tangles in her dogtags and Janet can't quite get the angle to free it. She bites her lip and shakes her head. "Sorry," she says, laughter warring with embarrassment in her voice.
Sam gets the fabric unwound from the chain and pulls it over her head. There are so many short jokes she wants to make, but she can't, quite, summon the certainty to do so. Another time – if there are other times – but right now they're too new for her to be comfortable teasing. Instead she settles for tossing the shirt aside and bending, again, for another kiss.
She tenses a little as Janet runs gentle fingers over her torso, knowing they're nearing the true point of no return, and Janet sighs and shakes her head. "Still thinking?" she asks. "Let's see if I can't fix that." She drops gracefully to her knees in front of Sam and unbuckles her belt.
Sam gasps and staggers, placing a hand on Janet's head for balance, and Janet hums in approval. "I'm sure, Sam," she says, fingers busy on Sam's button and fly. "Aren't you?" She glances up at Sam, waiting, and the picture she presents is so wildly arousing that all Sam can do is nod. God, how did she get so lucky, she wonders as Janet tugs her jeans down and helps her pull them off one foot, then the other, taking her socks with them.
"Do you trust me?" Janet asks, sitting back on her heels.
"Of course," Sam says immediately, emphatically, and is gratified to see Janet smile in appreciation.
"Then sit down, soldier," she says, nodding at the couch. "I'm gonna rock your world."
"You're full of clichés today, aren't you," Sam mutters, but she sits down eagerly.
"Well, they work," Janet points out. "On you as well as that jarhead in the cell, though I'd much rather use them on you. And here's another one." She kneels between Sam's legs, running warm hands over her bare thighs. "I want to taste you everywhere, Samantha Carter." Sam can feel herself flush at the thought, and Janet smiles. "Yeah. Told you they work."
Sam huffs out a reluctant laugh and runs her hand through Janet's hair, remembering how she liked that earlier. She still does, pressing her head back into Sam's touch, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "C'mon, then, Doctor," Sam says, reaching for the same light tone Janet's hitting and feeling herself relax a bit as she finds it. "Show me what'cha got."
"Oh, not so fast," Janet drawls, pressing a kiss to the inside of Sam's right knee. "I did say everywhere." She turns and kisses Sam's left knee next. "No sense in rushing, now, is there?"
Sam exhales shakily and forces herself to stay pliant, and Janet shoots her an approving glance. She lifts Sam's right hand from where it was lying on the couch, tracing the ulnar vein visible through Sam's pale skin. Watching Sam deliberately, she presses her mouth to the same spot; her tongue flicks out, hot against Sam's inner wrist, and Sam jerks. Janet mouths the flesh at the base of Sam's thumb, biting gently. She kisses the tips of each of Sam's fingers in turn, and Sam drags her nails across Janet's full lips.
It's Janet's turn to shiver, and Sam cups her chin, wondering if the power balance is finally going to swing the other way. "You like that?" she asks quietly.
"Yeah," Janet breathes, and immediately proves that Sam isn't likely to have the upper hand any time soon by sliding her mouth down over Sam's index finger.
Sam moans as Janet's tongue traces a path up from the base of her finger to the tip, teasing at the creases of her joints. Janet's teeth nip at the side of Sam's finger and then her tongue soothes the hurt, and Sam closes her eyes and lets her head fall back.
"You like that?" Janet asks, releasing Sam's finger.
"God, yeah," Sam groans.
"You want my mouth on you?"
"Fuck." Sam's hips jerk just at the thought of Janet's tongue against her clit. "Yeah, I do."
"Too bad," Janet whispers, sliding Sam's index and middle fingers into her mouth this time and slipping her tongue between them.
Sam whimpers helplessly and squirms, pressing her thighs together. Janet is – God, she's hardly touched her and yet she's on the edge already. Janet's mouth on her fingers is an incredible promise, but it's not enough, and Sam pushes aside her bra to run a rough thumb over her own nipple.
Janet makes a hungry sound and pulls away. "God, Sam," she says. She tugs Sam's grey cotton briefs down off her hips and over her feet, and then grabs Sam's wrist again and pulls her hand, fingers still wet from Janet's mouth, between her legs. "Sam - show me what you like?" she asks, hands on Sam's thighs, spreading her open.
Sam shifts, uncertain. "Janet, I don't – " she starts.
"Don't what? Don't do this?" Janet smiles. "'Course you do, Sam. You gonna tell me you haven't touched yourself and thought of me? I have." She runs one hand over her chest and cups her own breast through her bra. Biting her lip, she moans, and Sam almost echoes her, fingers twitching. "Sam, I want to see. I want you to show me."
Sam takes a breath and gropes after some way to even the scales. "And if I do?" she asks.
Janet lights up with triumph. "Okay. Show me what you like, and maybe I'll tell you a story to go with it." She winks, and Sam knows she's lost the battle.
She starts more slowly than she's used to; her own touch is familiar, but Janet, watching, isn't, and it makes her a little self-conscious. She's slick and hot and so, so sensitive, though, and her fingers are slippery because they were just in Janet's mouth and oh, yeah, that thought is enough to get her hips rocking against her own hand. She teases at her entrance, letting herself feel just how wet she is, and then Janet starts speaking.
"The first time I caught you looking," she says, "it was in the commissary. It was lunchtime, and SG-1 was scheduled to go offworld later that day. I turned and saw you staring into space and thought, wow, Captain Carter's working so hard on ways to save the world." Sam groans at the sound of her title in Janet's accent, stroking herself. She hopes this won't trigger a Pavlovian response.
Janet continues, her thumbs drawing circles on the inside of Sam's thighs. "And then you saw me watching you and you jerked away, and I wondered, what if you weren't thinking about the Goa'uld. What if," she drags her nails across Sam's skin, "you were thinking about me." Her voice drops and Sam's fingers speed up. She's beyond embarrassment, now. Her whole body is tingling with the need to come, but she doesn't want Janet to stop talking, so she grits her teeth and hangs on.
"I went home that night and I thought, my God, Samantha Carter, thinking about little old me." There's a smile in Janet's voice that makes Sam's belly clench. "I wasn't sure yet, but I thought... maybe. And I could imagine. What it'd be like if I came up to your lab one day and you were alone." One of Janet's hands disappears from Sam's leg and her breath catches. She's touching herself too, Sam realizes, and it's that more than anything that sends her on that last steep climb to coming.
"I'd pull you away from your microscope and ask you, 'Captain Carter, you've been watching me. Do you like what you see?' And then I'd push you up against the lab bench and I'd kiss you and – oh, God, Sam, God, you look gorgeous, yeah – " but Sam isn't listening any more. Her entire body clenches as her pulse throbs inside her cunt, and then the heat bursts outwards, concentric circles of pleasure radiating from her clit. Her toes curl and her brow furrows and she holds her breath as electric waves rush over her, until the intensity abates and she can draw a shuddering breath again. She opens her eyes and looks straight into Janet's.
There's no time for self-consciousness, because Janet lurches forward and kisses her, sloppy and fast and without any of the control she's shown the rest of the night. "Dammit, Sam," she pants, resting her head on Sam's shoulder, "do you have – any idea – how fucking hot – you are?" Her arm moves rhythmically between their bodies and suddenly Sam realizes – she doesn't want to watch Janet come. She wants to make Janet come.
She slides her hands over Janet's body, shoving her jeans and panties down until there's room to maneuver, and cups Janet's hand where it's working between her own legs. "Can I," Sam starts, and "Yeah," Janet says, "yeah - yeah, Sam - yeah," her movements getting more frantic. Sam curls two fingers – the two fingers that were in Janet's mouth, the two fingers she just got herself off with – and slips them inside Janet.
Janet's hand bumps against her wrist and the angle isn't ideal but Sam can feel Janet, feel the way she moves and she can just move with her, and it's worth every second of the back cramp. Janet tries to spread her legs wider, but her jeans get in the way; she makes a frustrated noise and digs her nails into Sam's thigh. "More," she demands, and Sam moves faster, ignoring the burn of denim against the back of her hand. She flexes her fingers and Janet whimpers. "Fuck, Sam, you f-feel so good," she gets out before her climax hits. She's not as quiet as Sam tends to be, gasping and moaning as she grinds against their hands, and Sam decides she can't wait to find out what other sounds Janet will make.
Finally she goes limp and Sam slides her hand away carefully. She raises it to her lips, catches Janet's eye, and smiles as she sucks the tips of her fingers briefly into her own mouth. Janet chuckles and shoves the hair out of her face with one hand.
"So, Doctor," Sam says, tracing her wet fingers along Janet's bottom lip. "Any other fantasies you want to share?"
"Right now?" Janet shakes her head. Kicking her tangled jeans and panties off, she clambers up on the couch and straddles Sam. "I think we're doing pretty good with reality, don't you?" She kisses Sam again and reaches to finally undo her bra, and Sam wraps her hands around Janet's waist and silently agrees.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-05 02:25 am (UTC)All this from beyond the grave whence this sent me. I am proud to have given my life in the service of stupidcrazysmokinhot ladyporn. Remember me well.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-05 02:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-25 09:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-11 12:34 pm (UTC)Wow. This is hot. I love the slow build-up, the uncertainty, Sam the biker, Janet's story... unf.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-11 11:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-15 02:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-18 10:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-18 08:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-18 10:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-02-21 03:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-08 07:52 pm (UTC)