Title: General Purpose Woman
Author: Bar Code
Email: bar_code_babe@yahoo.com.au
Category: Romance
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Sam/Jack Established
Status: Complete - however not beta read
Archive: Please ask for permission.
Spoiler Warning: J.Quinn mentioned in name - very, very minimal
spoilers
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, rather MGM-Gekko-Double
Secret's, this fic is written purely for entertainment value, and no
monetary funds will be garnered through it either.
Notes: Has not been beta read, any glaring mistakes are my mistake,
and mine alone until I can find someone to take the fall for me.
Constructive Feedback is more than welcome, flames will be doused.
*****
He had an unholy attraction to her feet, and it quite frankly
disturbed her. He knew exactly what went on in her shoes, the wet and
muddy planets they had to slog through, the dry and desolate waste
lands cracking at the leather reaching through the boundary to draw
moisture from her skin.
Yet still, he sat comfortably propped up against the arm of the couch
massaging gentle circles into the aching flesh. She did the same. It
wasn't some sexist slant her mind was going on, people expect men to
have thick soled, callused and beaten feet. They didn't look twice
when they took off their shoe to change into another, or try one on
in the store.
It had happened to her the last time she went shopping with Cassie.
Apparently the latest sneaker was to be purchased and worn to school,
that or the dire fabric of social class organization would come
tumbling around the sixteen year olds head. She certainly could
understand the teen's perspective, shoes grew into bigger problems as
they grew older.
Small things grow into larger things. Making the pocket money or
allowance stretch to incorporate the latest fashions changed into a
car, textbooks during college, the weekly food bill. She wasn't about
to try to dissuade the girl from her worries. She was acting like a
normal teenager, she was alive to act like a normal teenager. That's
all that really mattered now, paying exorbitant prices for a pair of
shoes that would possibly go out of season faster than fuzzy dice was
a small price to pay.
The sales attendant had fluttered over to their side, quickly eyeing
up the possible sales situation, she chose well and focused on the
long haired girl. So Sam Carter had sat on the chair watching as the
shoes were fitted, tried on and displayed for her approval. If only
it had gone that far, determined to outfit the blonde major with more
than combat GPs and steel caped motor cycle boots, wheedling and
cajoling had led to the stripping of her shoes down the poor feet.
She had wanted to keep on the thick comfortable socks as a protective
layer against the questioning eyes and speculative looks she would
get. There was no such luck, the heavy fabric not suitable for sizing
the sneakers correctly. Or so said the woman, who before had been
well mannered and attentive, had grown to be fussy and demanding.
So her attitude had changed, it was okay for Cassie to flaunt around
her perfectly manicured toes to all and sundry. But she had only just
returned from a fairly distasteful planet with hazardous chemicals
eating away at the team's shoes thanks to Jona's perfectly good
grasp of being a klutz when it came to finding food. With an resigned sigh she pulled the black
material off, finally giving everyone what they wanted to see. They
were normal feet, really, just hard worn. Not matter how many times
she soaked them, pampered them and rubbed healing cream into the
epidermis her feet showed her career.
"Air Force." That was all she had to say, an supportive tisking and
motherly glance over the abused (word for toes) a thinner pair of
socks had been handed over and she had all too quickly slipped them
back over, covering her shame. Mentally chiding yourself doesn't help
when battling years of socially inbuilt behaviour reflexes. Sure she
defended her country, her planet by while wearing the boots, but they
left their mark on her.
Taking Cassie in arm with the shopping bags hung at her elbow, long
strides had ensured they were far away from the penetrating glare of
the shoes sales woman. The girl hadn't a clue what brought about the
change in mood, but road it out with the foresight to know that her
right too moody brooding sessions also extended on those out of the
lower years of life.
So now, she was sitting there sighing and relaxing into the soft
cushions of her couch while the man she loved applied pressure and
caressed every inch of the abandoned body items. Her leg was raised
slightly, cracking open an eye she expected him to be slipping out
from underneath them to sojourn to the bathroom or something. Rather,
her eyes flew open as a warm mouth parted and between the two lips
her big toe slipped.
"Jack!" His eyelid slid upwards in such a residual mannerism of
Teal'c that she for a moment thought Ma'chello device had been up to
no good again. Pulling back to place smaller bites and soothing
kisses on her under sole, Jack just ignored her squirms and muttered
protests. "What's wrong Carter?" Her brown frowned slightly, the
lines formed from the action many times when she pondered over a
equation or a life saving pull of the P90's trigger.
"Jack, I've got soldier's feet, I mean really." He wasn't satisfied
with her expulsion of concerns and redoubled his efforts on the other
foot. Pulling herself up right and back solidly into the couch arm
opposite his, her face remained impassive, but eyes aching with pain.
"It would go that being a soldier same you would have these so
called 'soldier's feet'. What's the matter?" He left his long legs
stretched out still on either side of her crossed thighs. Nudging her
with his toe he tried to elicit more information. "It's just, well,
something silly I suppose. The patch of skin under here," Sam's hands
had reached out for his feet to demonstrate tactically. "it's so
thick and callused, here is always chaffed, and here... " A shorted
and nonsense nail ran up the sensitive underside of Jack O'Neill's
foot, "well it's as bad as the heel, all thick and callused from my
boots." Trying not to dismiss her out of hand, the male side of him
couldn't figure out the problem.
She wore boots every day, and when she went home, if riding her bike,
another kindred pair were pulled on, laced up and buckled over. "I
love your feet Sam, they're yours, they tell me so much about you."
She flinched with that and dropped the large foot she held in her
grasp. What was the problem? Looking her over he couldn't help but
noticed she was examining her nails as well.
Then it finally clicked, one thing Carter often chose to avoid and
ignore was her femineity. It wasn't generally by choice he was sure,
the Air Force held great regard for women officers, but those already
in the ranks, those joining, they didn't always see eye to eye with
the recruiters. Sam had to for many reasons strip herself down of the
obvious trappings of the female sex and adopt an air of 'one of the
boys'.
Something so long a habit, something necessary to her very notion of
self worth was caught up with a career in a military discipline which
favoured male attributes. Though she may not outwardly appear to be
concerned with whether her nails were manicured, buffed and painted
with precision, something inside her must nag away. The recent tirade
over her shoes was only symptomatic of a larger problem.
"Carter, Sam - I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Men, we of
course like women to be soft, feminine, yielding. "A pointed death
stare was shot across at him, and he wisely chose to go on trying to
somewhat retrieve the conversation for the 6 foot deep hole it was
digging for his body, "We aren't allowed to act feminine, you get to
wear a skirt when you're off duty, or pants, it all depends on what
you want to wear."
He sighed forlornly, "I was worried when Charlie was growing up, I
loved that he wanted to play baseball, was into all the 'boy' things.
There are pressures when you're growing up, I was worried he would be
told by society that he couldn't cry when he needed to. That he was
always to be the strong one, the 'man of the house'."
Rubbing a frustrated palm into his brow, Jack tried to explain himself
better. "Girls are told to be lady like, but I'm sure you know,
growing up that a phase of tom boy hood is acceptable. Almost
expected at some point in most of the female population." He knew he
had caught her attention, her bright eyes always challenging,
laughing or sharing sorrow with him. They now puzzled him out, but it
showed she was listening.
"I can never wear a skirt Sam, you get to choose. Sure in the
military we're not meant to be emotional, I suppose that hasn't
helped matters any for you. I know women are emotional, that's part
of the appeal, you feel things and understand them on levels we can't
even fathom." He crawled up on all fours to advance on her
position. "I care for you Sam, because you are all these things. You
fight with amazing skill and strength, you build a reverse engineer
reactor from advance alien technology, you make decisions, figure out
numbers and letters all mixed in together."
He stoped on his approach being very deliberate to stare her
down, "You held a little girl tight to your chest when she was meant
to go critical. Cassie exposed you early on Sam for what you really
are. The most amazing human being I've ever encountered in the
universe." Grinning he watched the slight upturning at the end of her
lips, he was winning, getting through to her. "
Soldier, lover, woman, biker, scientist," She watched him openly now,
playing up he grimaced as he said the last word and coped one of the
instigators of the nights conversation in the side. "Fighter... you
are my dictionary Sam. You are everything and you do everything."
Sam withdrew her legs from underneath his supported body clasp them
tightly to her chest. He didn't stop though, rather crawled up onto
all fours and moved forward nose brushing against her own. Deep and
huskily he breathed out words that finally saturated her brain and
gave some relief. "Sam, I don't care if your feet are a little
beaten, they're you." Soft lips reached her own and she succumbed to
the seeking attempts to engage her fully. Pulling her into his arms
she found herself falling backwards as he awkwardly engineered their
fall.
Lying on his chest she was flattered as he went on, "You are every
bit a woman Sam, and I lust for you in that capacity. I'm not fooled
by boots, or your practical hair cut." She shifted more comfortably
and gazed at him. "See, what you don't know is that it seeps out, the
way your hips move, the belting of your pants so comfortably around a
curve of a waist. You're slender arms and limbs, the clinging black
undershirts which do more for me than any skirt you could wear while
on down time." Snorting she thumped him gently.
"You can't be serious." He was deadly serious though, his eyes didn't
twinkle with the mischievous light they took on when about to pull an
earth idiosyncrasies past Teal'c, or when a sarcastic quip had Jonas
blustering about the weather conditions in Utah. "I'm very serious
Sam, I see you every day as a woman, whether you think I do or not.
It's not something that can be forgotten so easily. Certain things
emphasis it, a skirt, these..." The hand holding her close to him
skirted down her side and a long finger delicately reached down and
traced the outside of her breast.
A sharp intake meant the breath caught in her throat, it was more
intense than their first time together. This was his careful and
deliberate destruction of her demons and the slow seduction in the
process. "Feet that tell me you serve our country, the planet or the
known universe fails to detract from the fact you're a very beautiful
woman. One that I find incredibly attractive."
Flipping herself over with well placed arms and legs, the woman in question comfortably
straddled him, her thighs holding him still and buttocks resting on a
sensitive piece of anatomy. "Thank you." She didn't have to say
anymore than that, explain herself, he had done it for her.
Her hands dropped down to the hem of her shirt, crossing her arms,
the item of clothing was drawn up and over tussling her hair in the
process. His hands reached up, instead of stroking her newly exposed
skin, they took on a fair more intimate course of action. Finger tips
traced her lips, her nose, fluttering with deliberate tenderness
across her eyelids and then he pushed back the jutting fringe.
"Why don't we take this upstairs?" She nodded and smiled crawling off
him to offer a hand. She found more than that when with a spurt of
energy he was standing trying to insert himself into her skin.
Enjoying the full body contact, Sam was tempted to continue what had
started on the couch in the middle of the lounge room standing
upright. Jack broke off though, fastening lips to her collar bone and
shoulder, a rasping whisper ordering them to the bed before he fell
down.
Author: Bar Code
Email: bar_code_babe@yahoo.com.au
Category: Romance
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Sam/Jack Established
Status: Complete - however not beta read
Archive: Please ask for permission.
Spoiler Warning: J.Quinn mentioned in name - very, very minimal
spoilers
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, rather MGM-Gekko-Double
Secret's, this fic is written purely for entertainment value, and no
monetary funds will be garnered through it either.
Notes: Has not been beta read, any glaring mistakes are my mistake,
and mine alone until I can find someone to take the fall for me.
Constructive Feedback is more than welcome, flames will be doused.
*****
He had an unholy attraction to her feet, and it quite frankly
disturbed her. He knew exactly what went on in her shoes, the wet and
muddy planets they had to slog through, the dry and desolate waste
lands cracking at the leather reaching through the boundary to draw
moisture from her skin.
Yet still, he sat comfortably propped up against the arm of the couch
massaging gentle circles into the aching flesh. She did the same. It
wasn't some sexist slant her mind was going on, people expect men to
have thick soled, callused and beaten feet. They didn't look twice
when they took off their shoe to change into another, or try one on
in the store.
It had happened to her the last time she went shopping with Cassie.
Apparently the latest sneaker was to be purchased and worn to school,
that or the dire fabric of social class organization would come
tumbling around the sixteen year olds head. She certainly could
understand the teen's perspective, shoes grew into bigger problems as
they grew older.
Small things grow into larger things. Making the pocket money or
allowance stretch to incorporate the latest fashions changed into a
car, textbooks during college, the weekly food bill. She wasn't about
to try to dissuade the girl from her worries. She was acting like a
normal teenager, she was alive to act like a normal teenager. That's
all that really mattered now, paying exorbitant prices for a pair of
shoes that would possibly go out of season faster than fuzzy dice was
a small price to pay.
The sales attendant had fluttered over to their side, quickly eyeing
up the possible sales situation, she chose well and focused on the
long haired girl. So Sam Carter had sat on the chair watching as the
shoes were fitted, tried on and displayed for her approval. If only
it had gone that far, determined to outfit the blonde major with more
than combat GPs and steel caped motor cycle boots, wheedling and
cajoling had led to the stripping of her shoes down the poor feet.
She had wanted to keep on the thick comfortable socks as a protective
layer against the questioning eyes and speculative looks she would
get. There was no such luck, the heavy fabric not suitable for sizing
the sneakers correctly. Or so said the woman, who before had been
well mannered and attentive, had grown to be fussy and demanding.
So her attitude had changed, it was okay for Cassie to flaunt around
her perfectly manicured toes to all and sundry. But she had only just
returned from a fairly distasteful planet with hazardous chemicals
eating away at the team's shoes thanks to Jona's perfectly good
grasp of being a klutz when it came to finding food. With an resigned sigh she pulled the black
material off, finally giving everyone what they wanted to see. They
were normal feet, really, just hard worn. Not matter how many times
she soaked them, pampered them and rubbed healing cream into the
epidermis her feet showed her career.
"Air Force." That was all she had to say, an supportive tisking and
motherly glance over the abused (word for toes) a thinner pair of
socks had been handed over and she had all too quickly slipped them
back over, covering her shame. Mentally chiding yourself doesn't help
when battling years of socially inbuilt behaviour reflexes. Sure she
defended her country, her planet by while wearing the boots, but they
left their mark on her.
Taking Cassie in arm with the shopping bags hung at her elbow, long
strides had ensured they were far away from the penetrating glare of
the shoes sales woman. The girl hadn't a clue what brought about the
change in mood, but road it out with the foresight to know that her
right too moody brooding sessions also extended on those out of the
lower years of life.
So now, she was sitting there sighing and relaxing into the soft
cushions of her couch while the man she loved applied pressure and
caressed every inch of the abandoned body items. Her leg was raised
slightly, cracking open an eye she expected him to be slipping out
from underneath them to sojourn to the bathroom or something. Rather,
her eyes flew open as a warm mouth parted and between the two lips
her big toe slipped.
"Jack!" His eyelid slid upwards in such a residual mannerism of
Teal'c that she for a moment thought Ma'chello device had been up to
no good again. Pulling back to place smaller bites and soothing
kisses on her under sole, Jack just ignored her squirms and muttered
protests. "What's wrong Carter?" Her brown frowned slightly, the
lines formed from the action many times when she pondered over a
equation or a life saving pull of the P90's trigger.
"Jack, I've got soldier's feet, I mean really." He wasn't satisfied
with her expulsion of concerns and redoubled his efforts on the other
foot. Pulling herself up right and back solidly into the couch arm
opposite his, her face remained impassive, but eyes aching with pain.
"It would go that being a soldier same you would have these so
called 'soldier's feet'. What's the matter?" He left his long legs
stretched out still on either side of her crossed thighs. Nudging her
with his toe he tried to elicit more information. "It's just, well,
something silly I suppose. The patch of skin under here," Sam's hands
had reached out for his feet to demonstrate tactically. "it's so
thick and callused, here is always chaffed, and here... " A shorted
and nonsense nail ran up the sensitive underside of Jack O'Neill's
foot, "well it's as bad as the heel, all thick and callused from my
boots." Trying not to dismiss her out of hand, the male side of him
couldn't figure out the problem.
She wore boots every day, and when she went home, if riding her bike,
another kindred pair were pulled on, laced up and buckled over. "I
love your feet Sam, they're yours, they tell me so much about you."
She flinched with that and dropped the large foot she held in her
grasp. What was the problem? Looking her over he couldn't help but
noticed she was examining her nails as well.
Then it finally clicked, one thing Carter often chose to avoid and
ignore was her femineity. It wasn't generally by choice he was sure,
the Air Force held great regard for women officers, but those already
in the ranks, those joining, they didn't always see eye to eye with
the recruiters. Sam had to for many reasons strip herself down of the
obvious trappings of the female sex and adopt an air of 'one of the
boys'.
Something so long a habit, something necessary to her very notion of
self worth was caught up with a career in a military discipline which
favoured male attributes. Though she may not outwardly appear to be
concerned with whether her nails were manicured, buffed and painted
with precision, something inside her must nag away. The recent tirade
over her shoes was only symptomatic of a larger problem.
"Carter, Sam - I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Men, we of
course like women to be soft, feminine, yielding. "A pointed death
stare was shot across at him, and he wisely chose to go on trying to
somewhat retrieve the conversation for the 6 foot deep hole it was
digging for his body, "We aren't allowed to act feminine, you get to
wear a skirt when you're off duty, or pants, it all depends on what
you want to wear."
He sighed forlornly, "I was worried when Charlie was growing up, I
loved that he wanted to play baseball, was into all the 'boy' things.
There are pressures when you're growing up, I was worried he would be
told by society that he couldn't cry when he needed to. That he was
always to be the strong one, the 'man of the house'."
Rubbing a frustrated palm into his brow, Jack tried to explain himself
better. "Girls are told to be lady like, but I'm sure you know,
growing up that a phase of tom boy hood is acceptable. Almost
expected at some point in most of the female population." He knew he
had caught her attention, her bright eyes always challenging,
laughing or sharing sorrow with him. They now puzzled him out, but it
showed she was listening.
"I can never wear a skirt Sam, you get to choose. Sure in the
military we're not meant to be emotional, I suppose that hasn't
helped matters any for you. I know women are emotional, that's part
of the appeal, you feel things and understand them on levels we can't
even fathom." He crawled up on all fours to advance on her
position. "I care for you Sam, because you are all these things. You
fight with amazing skill and strength, you build a reverse engineer
reactor from advance alien technology, you make decisions, figure out
numbers and letters all mixed in together."
He stoped on his approach being very deliberate to stare her
down, "You held a little girl tight to your chest when she was meant
to go critical. Cassie exposed you early on Sam for what you really
are. The most amazing human being I've ever encountered in the
universe." Grinning he watched the slight upturning at the end of her
lips, he was winning, getting through to her. "
Soldier, lover, woman, biker, scientist," She watched him openly now,
playing up he grimaced as he said the last word and coped one of the
instigators of the nights conversation in the side. "Fighter... you
are my dictionary Sam. You are everything and you do everything."
Sam withdrew her legs from underneath his supported body clasp them
tightly to her chest. He didn't stop though, rather crawled up onto
all fours and moved forward nose brushing against her own. Deep and
huskily he breathed out words that finally saturated her brain and
gave some relief. "Sam, I don't care if your feet are a little
beaten, they're you." Soft lips reached her own and she succumbed to
the seeking attempts to engage her fully. Pulling her into his arms
she found herself falling backwards as he awkwardly engineered their
fall.
Lying on his chest she was flattered as he went on, "You are every
bit a woman Sam, and I lust for you in that capacity. I'm not fooled
by boots, or your practical hair cut." She shifted more comfortably
and gazed at him. "See, what you don't know is that it seeps out, the
way your hips move, the belting of your pants so comfortably around a
curve of a waist. You're slender arms and limbs, the clinging black
undershirts which do more for me than any skirt you could wear while
on down time." Snorting she thumped him gently.
"You can't be serious." He was deadly serious though, his eyes didn't
twinkle with the mischievous light they took on when about to pull an
earth idiosyncrasies past Teal'c, or when a sarcastic quip had Jonas
blustering about the weather conditions in Utah. "I'm very serious
Sam, I see you every day as a woman, whether you think I do or not.
It's not something that can be forgotten so easily. Certain things
emphasis it, a skirt, these..." The hand holding her close to him
skirted down her side and a long finger delicately reached down and
traced the outside of her breast.
A sharp intake meant the breath caught in her throat, it was more
intense than their first time together. This was his careful and
deliberate destruction of her demons and the slow seduction in the
process. "Feet that tell me you serve our country, the planet or the
known universe fails to detract from the fact you're a very beautiful
woman. One that I find incredibly attractive."
Flipping herself over with well placed arms and legs, the woman in question comfortably
straddled him, her thighs holding him still and buttocks resting on a
sensitive piece of anatomy. "Thank you." She didn't have to say
anymore than that, explain herself, he had done it for her.
Her hands dropped down to the hem of her shirt, crossing her arms,
the item of clothing was drawn up and over tussling her hair in the
process. His hands reached up, instead of stroking her newly exposed
skin, they took on a fair more intimate course of action. Finger tips
traced her lips, her nose, fluttering with deliberate tenderness
across her eyelids and then he pushed back the jutting fringe.
"Why don't we take this upstairs?" She nodded and smiled crawling off
him to offer a hand. She found more than that when with a spurt of
energy he was standing trying to insert himself into her skin.
Enjoying the full body contact, Sam was tempted to continue what had
started on the couch in the middle of the lounge room standing
upright. Jack broke off though, fastening lips to her collar bone and
shoulder, a rasping whisper ordering them to the bed before he fell
down.