Episode insert: Shades of Grey. Season Three.
Warnings: Angst. Sex. Porn. Showers. Anger. Angst, angst, angst. ANGST.
Pairing: Sam/Jack. (Jara, I swear, I tried writing Sam/Kara, but they're not speaking to me, and I blame Shai's sims, because Kara was cursing about being pregnant five times over)
Archiving: SJfic yes, please. All else: please ask.
Summary: It's not supposed to be like this, but he's naked and she's naked, and it is.
Notes: Partially Ryuu's fault, though definitely NOT the kind of smut she was implying. The title is an amalgamation of Depeche Mode's "Shake the Disease" and Nickelback's "Figured You Out". This is also ALL Risa's fault for demanding shower porn, AND writing fabulous Shades of Grey fic recently. All mistakes are my own, and I'm going to go die now.
Unshakable Disease by ALC Punk!
It isn't supposed to be like this. The shower was hot, as only the SGC showers could be. And he is giving them up for Edora, and something else he couldn't regret. Yet. Movement in the air, and he'd assumed an airman had come to join him. He kept assuming until she was plastered against him, lips claiming his angrily. She tastes like tequila.
"Shut up." Her mouth claims his again, and he yelps when she nips his lips, one hand dragging down his chest, the other cupping him. "Like that, hrm?"
He wishes her tone were actually taunting, but there's nothing but triumph there, and he makes a grab for her wrists. "Carter. Stop."
"No." She rubs against him, naked breasts against his arms, and it feels so. damn. good. "She was good enough for you, why not me?"
"I've had one shot for luck, sir." Her voice twists the honorific into mockery. "Or would you rather stay here in the cold and wet, and not have this before you're dishonorably discharged for conduct unbecoming?"
The taunt slides across his nerves, and he yanks her closer. "Carter. You don't understand."
"I understand enough." A haunted look slides across her eyes, then disappears, and she breaks free of his grasp. "And I want a piece of you before you go."
There is one second when he thinks he can say no to the furious woman standing naked before him. It's a sight he's (sometimes) let himself dream about. Naked Carter. Wet naked Carter, her chest moving with every breath, her skin glistening--he's a fucking Colonel in the Air Force, and he should be able to think straight.
"Fine." He grabs her hands, yanks her close and kisses her.
Her fingers tangle into his hair and she growls into his mouth.
Jack's brain isn't working very well, but he vaguely knows standing in the showers of the SGC, fucking his nearly ex-second-in-command is probably bad for one of the careers involved. It will also kill his knees.
She takes the decision out of his hands. "Floor. Now."
No indecision on who gets to be bruised by the tile, and she sinks down onto him a second later with an odd little sigh that makes him smug.
"I can't remember, sir," she says, moving fast, as if fucking his hips into the floor will make her happy.
"What was it you said?" Harder, and the sensation is beginning to break him.
"Oh, I know." Her hips twist and she arches (so fucking beautiful), and says, "Haven't been the same since you met me?"
Silence answers her, and her nails score lines down his chest.
"And now you're acting like yourself?"
More silence, and she half-laughs.
"How tragic, sir." Her body stops moving.
Her mouth silences his, insistent kisses that make him gasp for breath and then she moves, her inner muscles gripping him tight and it's all too much.
"I didn't--" he pants as she glares down at him, the water from the shower suddenly stretching into silence around them.
His hands slide up and cup her breasts, thumbs automatically slipping across her nipples.
A growl escapes her, and she grinds against his now flaccid dick. "Bastard."
It takes only a second to shift, and then she's on her back, the cold tile making her gasp as his fingers slide into her and his mouth fastens on one nipple. He doesn't ignore the other, rolling it between thumb and forefinger as she arches.
Her fingers dig into his hair, one hand's nails scratch at his shoulder. And he smirks when she curses and spasms around his fingers.
The water from the showers patters against his back.
He twitches his fingers inside of her, and she whimpers. "You sure about that?"
"Yes." Her hand fists itself and smacks into his shoulder. "Now. Off."
"Or what?" he asks mildly, starting a slow flexing. In. Out. In...
"Shit--" She bites off a moan and slides a leg under his, brushing against him. A groan escapes him. Her hands close on his shoulder and hair and she twists, half-throwing him sideways, coiling and rolling them to land on top again.
Jack adds another finger, changes the angle of penetration, and her head snaps back.
"I still don't--"
A soft litany of curses echoes around them, and she presses against his hand. "Forgive."
Carter's hips rock into his hand, insistent.
Her eyes are wide and dilated as she stares down at him. "I--"
"Because I can stop now, you know. I can get up and leave, and this... can end." There's something ironic about the lies he's telling her.
Her hand wraps around his wrist. "No. No leaving. Not now."
"It's your decision."
The hand tightens on his, and she looks away. "I can't forgive you." Her voice changes, becomes distant. "Not yet."
He tugs his hand away from hers, removes his fingers, and she whimpers softly. "Then we're done here."
Neither of them move for a moment, then she releases his wrist and slides to one side, collapsing into a bundle of Carter-legs and arms, head tilted and propped on her knees. "I'm..."
"Don't say you're sorry," his voice is harsh.
"Goodbye, sir. I hope you're happy--" she stops, unable to continue for a moment, then whispers, "there. With her."
He freezes for just a moment, then nods jerkily. "They should give you SG-1."
"Just go, sir."
He takes the image of her, sitting there so silent and still with him, and leaves. It takes only a minute to dress and he spots her neatly folded BDUs on one bench, just waiting to be put back on.
The shower stops.
Time to go, Jack.