Pairing: Sam/Jack (duuur)
Rating: 18+ Sex.
Spoilers: Season 8.
Set: Future season, so there is happiness.
Archive: Sure! ) Summary: All she wanted was ice cream, was that so hard for him to get?
Notes: Much of the inspiration for this was taken from the recent trend in what people like reading. ) Much assistance was given by the lovely and talented nostalgia.
Sunshine of the Eternal Mind (at 3 a.m)
by ALC Punk! and Nostalgia
"Jack! I need you to bring my toffee chocolate crunch ice cream!"
"I'll get right on that, my love."
"I love you!" Samantha called in heart-felt tones of love. She happily felt up her ever-growing belly and sighed happily. Her womb was finally complete, perfectly symbolising the way her life was now. She smiled at her own use of metaphor.
Jack was sad that they couldn't have sex anymore, but relieved that finally he would be able to get over the loss of his previous son in a gun accident. He still blamed himself, even though other than not owning a gun in a house with a child in it, there was not much he could have done. Sam knew how much he hurt inside. Jack didn't understand statistics, like that for every one defensive use of a gun in the home there were four accidental deaths, or that five children died in the US every day from legally-owned home guns.
But, his beloved wanted ice cream, and even though there wouldn't be anything open at three in the morning, Jack was bound and determined to find her some. Even if he had to go to the 24-hour Wal-Mart. It was important that he show her affection, especially since she got pregnant and started mentioning how spousal abuse was about twice as common among the military than among civilians. they were both military, so that made it four times as likely. And they both owned guns.
Not that he would ever hurt his Sammie. He loved her too much. Now, any man who looked at her, he was fair game. And Jack had had knuckles bloody from more than one beating down. "Man deservered to be hit, officer." he'd gotten good at saying that. That wasn't real violence anyway. Wal-Mart was the only option, even though like all good Irishmen, Jack boycotted Wal-Mart because of their horrific record on employee rights.
So Jack got into his SUV, drove it through streets that clearly needed phallic gas-consuming cars, parked it in the parking lot, got out of his car, went in the shop, came back out to lock the car, went back in, found an ethically-viable brand of the requested ice-cream, got back in his car, drove it home, parked it outside the house, took the stuff in, and went back out to lock it. Then he went back into the house and locked the door of the house.
"Jack! Jack!" His beloved was nearly screeching. But he'd never think she screeched, after all, she was a beautiful woman and beautiful women never did negative things. So, he convinced himself that she was calling him in dulcet tones, "Coming, my love!"
So then Jack went up the stairs, with the stuff, and Sam was happy. God, he loved how women were all hormonal. Sometimes he could have sex with her and she didn't even notice. After all, she'd consented on previous occasions and probably wouldn't have objected anyway.
Jack was glad he didn't have hormones, though. He wasn't sure what they were, because he was dense, but they seemed like a bad thing to have. He seemed to get on fine without them anyway. Testosterone was way better than those damn hormone doohickeys. It made the brain go faster. And it killed sperms, which was good, because the Pope said they shouldn't use condoms. That was another reason he was so pleased Sam had been a virgin. She could have had anything if she was slutty.
"Oh, god, there you are. FINALLY." Sam panted at him, glaring. "I was about to call the police and report you missing. Did you get lost again, my hormonal buttercup?"
Jack stared slack-jawed. Had she just called him gay? if anyone was gay it'd be Daniel, who was way more poly-syllabic. Daniel's freakish speech-patterns gave it away. That and the fact that Jack had had sex with him. But Jack didn't really think of the sex as good. After all, Daniel wasn't a woman, and therefore, it wasn't as good.
Still, Jack was married now, and to a woman. Thank God he'd voted Republican! Otherwise his own swift marriage to his subordinate would have been cheapened by all those gay weddings.
Of course, those gays had nothing on the horrible god-hating Iraquis. And Jack was sad that he hadn't been sent over there to deal some good old American Kick-Ass to them. Luckily, he'd volunteered that pansy, Pete Shanahan for the duty. Some good old military homophobia would sort that guy out. Still, Pete was a cop and probably knew how to kill already. And had tried to have sex with his precious Sam, but she hadn't been whorish enough to have consensual sex with a man she loved and was enaged to. Even though he doubted that whole love thing anyway. Pete was probably Iraqui anyway. What sort of name was "Shanahan" anyway? French or something, probably.
"Yes, Jack?" He kissed her cheek and then began pulling off his clothes. "I love you."
"Oh, Jackie," she whimpered, staring at him, her gaze suddenly full of lust. "Make love to me. Make me a woman!"
And since that was what Jack wanted to do, he complied, sliding his already hard spear of love into her dewey bud. "Oh, Sammie." He gasped as he thrust and thrust, "I love you so much."
"More than Kerry, Jackie?"
"She was like the whore of the week, my pregnant love." His hand caressed her belly, keeping his son safe.
"Oh." She gasped, arching, "Oh, Jack, give me your love! I want to feel you pulsating inside of me as you reach your completion!"
He gasped, "Sammie, my only love--Aaaaaaaaaugh!"
She writhed as he emptied his seed deep into her womb, wondering vaguely if this would get her pregnant even more. Statistically, Jack was certain that a woman got pregnant every 19 seconds. He hoped that didn't mean she was going to have quadruplets or something. Since, in Jack's family, twins were run of the mill. In fact, Jack had a twin of his own, although he died when Jack was young.
Sometimes, Jack got the feeling he was watching. That there were cold, ghostly, fingers dancing along his spine.
But Jack didn't believe in ghosts.
And, of course, Sam's baby would be a son. It HAD to be a son. Sam would never let him down by dropping a girl. Maybe he could let her have a girl on the third or fourth pregnancy. He would name the first one Jack, then a Daniel and a Charlie II. Then, maybe, they could have Jackina.
"Jack," his beloved whimpered, "You're still hard. You're such a man."
He moved within her love tunnel, and sighed happily, "Yes, yes I am. Want to go again, my cuddlemuffin?"
"Yes, please, I love to feel you pounding into me, Jack. It makes me feel like a woman. Give it to me, baby." She arched, her legs folding themselves to her ears, and whimpered, "Please, Jack."
Jack thrust into her, going deeper than before and grinding his pelvis against her sensitive places. "Like that, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, Jack."
"Good. Sammie." He nipped at her neck, "Come for me, Sammie. Squeeze my cock with your internal muscles while I drive you insane."
"Oh, God, Jack. I love you so much--" She whined and arched and then whimpered, "I'm almost there, Jack."
"Where?" he asked, confused.
"Tahiti--" she gasped and then arched, her interior muscles fluttering around him. "--let's go to Tahiti, Jackie. I've always love the sand and sun. The way the water flows the wrong way round."
"That's Australia, my love."
"G'day, mate. Let's go down under."
"Now?" Jack paused in his deep thrusting, disturbed, "But, you're pregnant. We wouldn't want to risk Jack Junior on a plane."
"Some day, Jack. When we have ten children, and they're all as beautiful as me..."
"Oh, okay," he said happily as he resumed driving to his climax.
"Jackie--" she cried out, "I am so fulfilled! Your love drowns and caresses me so. Give me your seed so that we can make another baby!"
"But, what about the--augh!--one you're already--" Jack's mouth stopped working (his brain had long ago given up the ghost as a bad deal, especially since Jack didn't believe in ghosts), and he cummed hard and deep into his beloved's accepting womb.
"I can feel you spurting against my cervix, Jackie," she whimpered.
Jack was so glad he'd taken Sam's maidenhead. It was so romantic to be her first, even if he was a dirty old man who wasn't worthy of her. Hazily, he wondered about the pregnancy, and being gay.
"I'm not gay, am I?"
"Well, statistics show that one in every five males is really gay and trying to hide it." He pulled out of her with a plopping sound and sighed.
"Jackie, you can't be gay. You made me pregnant." She beamed at him with her logic.
The kind of logic that made his brain hurt (which was all logic, so he never tried to think). "Oh. Right." He smiled happily at her and snuggled up against her with a sigh. "So... How long until this one's born again?"
"Three months. And it's triplets, Jackie, remember?"
"Oh. Right." he mumbled. And then he was asleep.
Sam, even though she was unfulfilled sexually, didn't worry. She just shifted, feeling fulfilled as a mother, and certain that he wouldn't forget next time.
Of course, she always thought that. So she thought about what they were naming their babies instead. There would be Jack, Jr., and Jonathon the Second, and, of course, Gracie Janet Cassandra Elizabeth. Sam smiled happily at the thought and drifted off to sleep, feeling contented.
Meanwhile, the ice cream continued to melt on the nightstand, completely forgotten.