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[scruffyduck.livejournal.com]

Title: White
Author: rolleson
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: Adult
Character/Pairing: Sam/Jack
Spoilers: Nothing really.
Warnings: Sex
Summery: Jack has worries.
Notes: Written for million_moments over a lot of text messages. 720 words.



He wasn’t really worried about getting caught having sex on the base, or in the lab, or having sex with Sam, those were all good things. Getting caught was a good thing. He wasn’t embarrassed about the fact he was having regular (phone, cyber, oral, whatever he could get) sex with Sam Carter. She didn’t seem to be too bothered about being caught either (she wasn’t exactly being quiet right now) and what were they going to do? Fire her? They’d sooner fire him and he’d sooner have that happen.

So the fact he currently had her up against the dark room door (why she had a dark room was almost a big a mystery as why they hadn’t had sex in there yet), her legs around his waist, gripping him tight with her thighs, his hands flat on the door and both their trousers pooled around their ankles. He was deep inside her, and she was so tight his head was swimming. Just the heat of her body was enough to have him seeing those little white spots in the corners of his eyes, or her wet mouth or her voice over the phone, telling him all the things she was going to do to him in her house, her car, her lab, her darkroom.

He had to think about it, concentrate, to remember that her brand new darkroom had been their destination. Except he’d kinda got waylaid by the fact that she’d already undone his trousers by time he’d shut the lab door, kicking it shut with his hand up her shirt.

Never mind.

Though, the darkroom would’ve been better maybe, because it was, as advertised, dark and he was worried about his legs. While Sam was doing to her best to fuck away all his thoughts, deep down in his subconscious (it was in there somewhere) he was worrying about his legs. Not whether he could hold Sam up, his knees took her weight easily, but he was loosing his tan.

A couple of years in an office, behind a desk, he wasn’t in the sun as often as he used to be. His legs weren’t at least. He was sure he was loosing what he had always considered to be a permanent tan. He wasn’t a vain man, but he had this feeling that white legs and a tanned torso looked stupid even on the best looking men.

Sam hadn’t commented on it yet, but then they had had so little time together over the past few months, that she hadn’t really looked lower than his crotch. His own gaze usually remained on her breasts and it occurred to him that maybe they should spend more time on each other but then, he loved her breasts. He loved the taste of her skin and the way they sat in his hands. The little groan she made when he bit down too hard. He loved her nipples, loved this, loved this woman. Loved fucking her up against doors and over lab benches and on cold concrete floors. Loved it when she tightened her legs harder around him to get him to concentrate on her and not on his finally fading tan or where they had intended on having a quick release of tension before actually doing some work (for him, meetings finally counted as work).

So he did, one hand on her hip, the other under her shirt and bra so he could run his thumb over her nipple while putting his entire soul into fucking her through the door and into the darkroom if he could. He could barely hear those little grunts she made when he was rough with her, almost hurting her and when her body tightened around her it felt like his skull was squeezing his brain and those little white lights were back in the corner of his eyes and he didn’t care what colour his legs were.

At some point they had both slid down to the floor, hot and sticky with sweat and Sam’s pale skin flushed red.

“I think I broke your door.” He mumbled. She laughed.

“You wish.” They were silent again until Jack could open his eyes to see that no, he hadn’t broken the darkroom door, and his legs were still twenty shades darker than Sams.