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Resurfacing EMAIL: tangofic@hotmail.com Note: Just in case anyone forgot (like I will in a week), the characters
break down like this: *** Jack O'Neill awoke with a groan and flung an arm over his eyes. Every night he had the same dreams about his second in command, about her kisses, her breathy little whispers, flesh, hot and wet, surrounding him, sliding against him. The sound of feminine moans of pleasure buried under the clanging of tools and grunts from workers and so much steam some days it was hard to remember there was an Ice Age on the surface. Their rations would be split in half for a month or more if they were caught but they couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. It was worth the overworking, the constant sore muscles and the unending sweat of the Plant to take her against a wall, tucked behind a maze of metal and pipes, to have her lay him back on a concrete floor and pull that orange tunic over her head. It was too risky to take off their clothes completely but sometimes they couldn’t help it. After all, it was her skin that made him remember. No woman like her had spent half of her life in a mine and half in a plant. It was not possible. Not with skin that soft. Not with the way her hands were raw every night. Sometimes she climbed in his bunk in the middle of the night, quietly scaling up the ladder, just to wrap herself around him and shiver. It took too many nights of holding her, too many sneaked embraces, too many breaks with him between her thighs to think of this planet as something as clinical P3R-118. Jack growled in frustration and bunched his pillow underneath his head. This had to stop once and for all. He could not spend the rest of his command lusting after her. Something had to be done and soon. *** Sam moved her lettuce around on her plate in an attempt to appear to be eating, but she couldn’t make her throat stop constricting. Her commanding officer, who also had been her lover while on P3R-118, had invited her out to lunch to talk and the talking part of the talk had yet to start. “I’m thinking of asking to be transferred to another SG unit, sir,” she finally said quietly, meeting his eyes bravely. “Unacceptable, Major.” “With all due respect, sir, I can’t work under your command any longer. I don’t want to be court martialed and…and…” “And?” “And that’s it,” she finished, gulping ice tea down nervously. “First of all, we haven’t done anything to be court martialed. We had no memory of our ranks or even who we were.” “It’s not what we’ve done,” she said, meeting his eyes. She didn’t finish the sentence but it came across loud and clear. It wasn’t what they’d already done, it was what they would do. “Don’t request to be transferred,” Jack said. “Just…wait. Alright?” “Yes sir,” she said. ~END~ |