Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Samantha Carter / Janet Fraiser
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Geonn asked for “Janet in blue jeans” and specifically “Janet on the couch, jeans undone, and a tight white Tshirt.” I did my best to indulge him.
Notes: Forgive any mistakes or cliches, I’m just happy to have written this – start to finish in about 45 mins, a little over 900 words.
Janet fell back onto the couch, reclining against the overstuffed cushions, careful not to spill her glass of wine. It had been a long day – in more ways than one. Her entire body ached from moving furniture and cleaning, and her shoulder twinged from pulling on the wardrobe that she kept in her bedroom. She rolled it a bit to loosen the muscles as she sipped at her wine, and inadvertently caused the tips of her breasts to rub against the fabric of her bra and tight white t-shirt.
That led her to thinking of her second problem – a long day in tight quarters with Sam, in equally tight, well-worn jeans, bending, stretching, and sweating along side of her, in the humid July heat. She finally had a moment alone, since Sam had run out to grab some take away from their favorite sandwich place and a twenty-pound bag of ice for the margaritas they would likely spend the rest of the night sipping, in between packing up some of the smaller items.
All she wanted to do was lie here for five minutes, close her eyes and think about Sam and how she had looked today, and how she would look if Janet would throw her down across the king sized bed that was still one of the few assembled pieces of furniture left in the house. She hated moving with a passion, but she and Cassie really did need a bigger place now that she was getting older, and well, it turned out that it did have its rewards. She had enough images to fuel her very active imagination for months, she thought as she licked a drop of wine from her lips.
She squirmed a little, as a new ache started to present itself, and she glanced over to the clock, trying to calculate travel times and waiting times. Her free hand was already rubbing over the surface of her shirt, pressing, rubbing, easing and increasing the tension she could feel, as her nipples tightened into peaks, as they had been threatening to do all day. She slowly circled her fingertips over them, slow, firm, strumming motions that had her starting to arch off the couch. She set the glass on the end table with a shakily indrawn breath, and with half an ear straining to listen for the familiar roar of Sam’s bike, she slid her hand under her shirt, across the slight roundness of her belly, up under her bra, to lift the cups free and expose her breasts to her own caress as she thought of Sam’s firm hands, her eyes watching Janet touching herself, the scar on Sam’s index finger and how it would feel if it brushed against her nipple, if Sam took that hard peak and squeezed it between her fingers tips, if her mouth followed with a warm, open-mouthed, sucking kiss.
Janet groaned loudly in the empty house, her eyes opening briefly to assure that she really was alone, as she thumbed open the button on her jeans and slid her hand into the wetness between her thighs. Her clit was already hard and throbbing, swollen, extended slightly within her slick folds, and the slightest brush sent a shiver through her. Carefully, she rubbed slow circles around the nub with her thumb, as she eased her zipper all the way down, and squirmed a little to lower her jeans a bit and give herself more room.
It was Sam’s name that she cried out when she finally eased her fingertips into her tight, slick opening, and Sam that she pictured in her mind, leaning over her, blonde hair she saw falling into her face, and Sam fucked her hard and fast, Sam’s roughened voice whispering words of encouragement and dirty suggestions into the recesses of her mind. Her right hand pressed in and out rubbing her inner walls on every stroke, the base of her palm pressed against her clit, as her left hand wandered over her chest and neck rubbing and squeezing her right breast and occasionally moving to her left. She was caught up in the feelings arcing through her body, the fantasy spinning through her head, and completely missed the sounds she had been waiting for.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, blocking out the sound of the bike’s engine, her gasps and moans covered the sound of Sam coming in through the front door, and the cry of her own voice, calling out Sam’s name in ecstasy drowned out Sam’s own gasp at the picture she made as she shuddered her pleasure.
In her daze, she never heard the blonde carefully letting herself back out onto the porch, or saw Sam’s shocked expression turn to wonder as she looked around, and quickly set herself to rights. She was in the kitchen washing her hands, when she finally heard the front door open, and Sam’s rambling commentary about the shop filled the empty house. If Sam sounded a little breathless, Janet couldn’t tell past the way her own breath caught at the sight of the flushed and windblown beauty entering the room with a smile that lit up the whole place.
It was going to be a long night – but nothing a little tequila wouldn’t help with – but she wouldn’t give this up for anything. Sam was beautiful, sassy, and fun. She was her best friend, and if she was also the woman of Janet’s dreams, she could live with that, as long as she got moments like this while she was awake. Everything in its own time and place.