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This has been sitting around on my hard drive forever. It's never going to be posted anywhere else because it's out of character and could never happen and the pov switches in the middle.
Came about when I was folish and trying to figure out how Sam managed the academy, a doctorate and learned to fly, all in time to make it to the gulf. As you will see, I didn't find an answer, but I did find smut.
Title: Incirlik
Author: elly427
Summary: She's young and blond and beautiful, and looks just different enough from Sara that it's not the first thing he notices about her. Takes place way back during the Gulf war.
Rating: Uh. I suck at these. R/NC-17? Sam/Jack. Vague notions of Jack/Sara, in that Jack and Sara are still married.
Spoilers: Oh no.
She's young and blond and beautiful, and looks just different enough from Sara that it's not the first thing he notices about her.
That comes later, later when she's pressed up against his side and he's remembering how good women smell, clean and warm even in the heat, and how soft and pliable their bodies are.
But when she and her group of officers walk into the bar, and spy him and his friends, it's certainly not her resemblance to Sara he notices. It's her regulation blouse, or rather what he can see underneath, what he can see peaking out from the un-regulation three undone buttons.
And she's young and blond and beautiful, and damn, funny too, and how she ends up sitting next to him he's not really sure in the same way he's not sure how his arm ended up around the back of her chair.
And it's not until later, when she's panting against him that she reminds him of Sara, because right now, at this table the laughing woman beside him is driving every thought of his wife, and the fight they'd had on the phone not two hours ago, and the fear that he's going to come home to an empty house, or a house with all of his belongings already packed and a mover on speed dial, out of his mind.
She leans into him as she laughs, her head thrown back and her neck long and pale and smooth and too much to resist after the amount of ouzo he has consumed so he leans forwards, and it doesn't take that much, really, and his lips are on her neck, hot and wet and gone before he lets his tongue dart out to touch the flesh between his teeth.
She looks at him, eyes wide and a little startled but then she smiles and the last thing he is thinking of is his wife.
[][][][]
She hadn't wanted to come out, and protested that she needed to get some work done before they left for the Gulf tomorrow and that had been when Adam had grabbed her arm and insisted that he wasn't listening and she was coming and he didn't care if she outranked him.
So she'd ended up being dragged to one bar, then another and another and she thinks they're on their fifth when Matt spies a captain he knows, sitting at a corner table with a bunch of other Air Force guys and she's being pushed into an empty chair and being forced to make small talk with a bunch of people she's never met, and this is exactly why she didn't want to go out in the first place.
But the guy to her left is funny, keeps making comments about the story one of his buddies is trying to tell, adding his own interpretation of how exactly he came about that scar and she tries not to laugh but he's funny, and he smiles when she makes some comment and pretty soon, pretty soon she's leaning into him and damn he smells nice. Nice smell, nice eyes, nice forearms. Things she shouldn't be noticing about another officer but is.
She's laughing at some comment he's made, some twisting of words that hits closer to the reality than anything the other guy has said yet, and she leans (whoops) and throws her head back and laughs, really laughs, laughs like she hasn't in a long time, what with school and the academy and training and combat. Her head tips back and rests on his shoulder and then his hot mouth is on her neck, teeth lightly scrapping, and then it's gone.
The smile breaks before she has the chance to stop it, and he looks a little dazed but smiles back, slow and soft and sexy and it makes her melt.
And she just can't take her eyes off that mouth, watches greedily as his tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips, then disappears, and she thinks maybe she's jealous, which is ridiculous because she's not even sure of his name. She raises her eyes and catches him watching her mouth and she bites her lower lip softly, not meaning it to be coy but it is, and she watches him swallow, sees his eyes close briefly. And maybe, maybe it would be okay to just lean forward, close the gap, just give in . . .
A hand on her shoulder, Adam, and she will kill him, will do it cheerfully, and he wants her to confirm that he actually managed to pull off some prank, so she drags her gaze from this guy's lips and turns.
But the hand on the back of her chair moves to her shoulder, strong fingers start rubbing little circles there, and if anything else, the tension between them increases.
And his hand stays there, is somewhere on her body for the next few hours, as the alcohol flows and slowly the crowd around the table thins. And eventual they find they are alone in the corner, the rest of the guys sitting on the other side, deeply engrossed in a discussion of . . . well, she's not sure, hasn't really been paying attention.
She's all but ignored everyone at the table except Jack (that's his name, she'd finally broken down and asked after . . . well, she can't remember what round it was, but suffice to say she's had a lot to drink) for quite some time, and they've been talking for some time, to the point of rudely ignoring the others around the table, his friends and hers who have left them alone.
She shifts a little, moves in her chair because after (quick check of her watch) four hours, her butt is getting a little numb. But the motion makes him stop talking, makes him pull back, and when had he gotten that close? she wonders, and he moves to pull his arm from the back of her chair.
And she's not sure how, is never quite sure what happened, but somehow, in reaching to try to stop him from moving, her fingers had tangled in his, and now their hands are sitting in her lap.
She looks down, then up at him, a little embarrassed, and then hurriedly pulls her fingers away. He lets her fingers go but leaves his hand sitting there, palm down, in her lap. She looks down, then up, meets his eyes and then is distracted by the slow smile working its way across his face.
And she swallows, and the tension that's been simmering between them all night works itself into a boil, and he's going to kiss her, she wants him to kiss her, and god, will he just kiss her, already? when he clears his throat and looks across the table at the other men, still engrossed in conversation, but still sitting no more than six feet away.
And she lets her shoulders slump a little, knows he's right, knows that kissing him would be a bad idea because she's not sure she could stop there, and she's leaving in a little over thirty six hours and it's not like she'll ever see him again and what is his hand doing?
He's slowly kneading the top of her thigh through her pants, and it's shooting electricity straight to her groin and she has to shift, suddenly uncomfortable but in the best possible way.
His hand stills a little and he meets her eyes and she spreads her thighs just enough and his eyes go dark, darker, and hot.
His fingers slide down, then up, and he's still kneading, but now, now, now she's shifting on her chair and he's hitting just the right spot and her eyes drift shut and she just feels his fingers on her.
Her eyes fly open as his other hand works on pulling the hem of her blouse from her pants, and then he's caressing the soft skin of her abdomen, and it feels so. good. and she realizes she should touch him but when she reaches over all she can do is dig her nails into his forearm as his hand slips under the waist of her pants.
They are unbuttoned and the zipper is half down before she really knows what he is doing, but then she is quietly groaning her approval as she feels his fingers through the lace of her underwear, and she opens her eyes and watches his face and he watches his fingers, then meets her gaze, leans close, shielding her from the view of the others across the table and breathes "Quiet." Hot breath trailing across her face and she nods, steels herself and still exhales sharply as his hand works its way under the leg of her panties.
She's panting, she knows, but it's better than the moan that is threatening to work its way out of her throat and she gasps as his middle finger unerringly finds her clit and begins pumping, circling, makes smooth strokes that have her on edge.
She digs her short nails into his arm, and he's going to have marks tomorrow, five little half-moons on his skin, and she, she is not going to be able to forget the feeling of being fingered in the middle of a smoky Turkish lounge for a long, long time.
She can't help it anymore, she's starting to make noises, sharp little sobs in the back of her throat as he teases and teases and teases and where did he learn to do that because she'd like to thank the woman who taught him god, that and she can't help it, she's going to make a noise loud enough to attract some serious notice when she comes which is going to be any moment and she can't believe she's doing this and -
He leans in, captures her lips for the first time in a deep, open-mouthed kiss even as he circles her clit faster, harder, moves his fingers away and moves his thumb to her clit and thrusts one, two, god three long, beautiful fingers in her and she is coming and breaking into a million wonderful pieces, and it's even better because he's swallowing her moans and holding her head with the hand that isn't still working under her panties and making her absorb the compulsion to move, to thrash her head from side to side and pump her hips down and down and down onto his fingers and thumb.
And finally she sags against him, and he slows the kiss, and his tongue moves back into his mouth and he places gentle, closed mouth kisses on her lips, then another one on her neck and she slumps back into her chair, keeps her eyes closed and tries to control her breathing as he flicks his thumb once and chuckles as she jumps. She drags one eye open, sees him right there, looking pleased and smug and he has every right.
She drags her eyes away from his, risks a look across the table, but the three airmen are still talking, don't seem to have noticed that she's just fallen apart not ten feet away from them. Eyes back to him as he puts his fingers away, up, brings a finger to his mouth and lets his tongue dart out to taste her there, and she shivers, because it's maybe the most erotic thing she's ever seen.
He wipe his hand on his pants, then reaches over, tucks in her blouse, does up the button and zipper on her pants and sits back, pleased.
She's still a little stunned, her senses still buzzing, but she's cognizant enough to notice the bulge in his pants, and she thinks he deserves some of his own treatment, so she reaches over and takes hold of him through his pants, squeezes, strokes firmly, and he groans, quietly, privately.
She stills her hand but doesn't pull away when he grips her wrist tightly.
"I want-' his voice cracks a little and she smiles, just a little. She has brought him to this. He clears his throat. "Do you want to take this somewhere not . . . " he looks around. "Here?" Privacy is a relative term in the military, and she knows they cannot go back to barracks, and if he's managed to get a private room, private probably means he's sharing it with at least one other person.
[][][][]
Her hand is on his cock, and she'd just come around his fingers in the middle of a bar, and he hasn't wanted to sink himself into a woman this badly in years. And any guilt he's feeling is easily pushed to the back of his mind by hormones and ouzo and the fact that in a few days he's going to be jumping out of a plane into the middle of enemy territory and he's pretty sure his wife is leaving him.
"Hotel?" he asks, a little hesitant, not wanting her to think he's treating her like the prostitutes he knows many of the other men have gone to visit. She nods, takes a breath and visibly gathers herself, then pushes away from the table and stands. She's beautiful as her knees wobble, still a little weak from her orgasm and a little swell of pride washes over him. This is probably stupid, is stupid for a hundred good reasons, but he doesn't care.
He stands, reaches a hand out to support her, helps her pull her coat on, and then rests a hand at the small of her back. The other men at the table finally look over (and she doesn't know how he was watching them, making sure they didn't notice he was slowly driving her out of her mind while they talked cars six feet away. Oblivious assholes) and he sees Miller smirk, shoots him a warning glance and ushers Sam around the table.
He's about to pull the door open when it flies open, and he meets Frank Cromwell's eyes.
"Jack, let's go. Orders came in. Wheels up in thirty minutes." he nods, and Frank's eyes dart from him to Sam and back again. He sees disapproval and knows he's going to hear about this later but doesn't care, slides his arm from Sam's back around her waist, marking her as his for the moment.
"Let's go." Frank holds the door.
"Give me a minute."
"Jack-"
"A minute." His CO backs down, shakes his head and moves toward the table in the back where the other members of his squad sit. He turns to Sam, cursing the timing, trying to figure out exactly what to say, to explain he has to go and he opens his mouth, still not sure what's coming out when her lips meet his, close over his, swallow his words and her tongue erases any memory of what he was going to say.
He pulls her closer, groans into the kiss as his still half-hard cock is trapped between them. She rotates her hips a little and he pulls away from the kiss, but not her, to look down into her eyes.
"I have to-"
"I know." And of course she does. She's not Sara. Instead of tears, she reaches up once more, kisses him gently, then releases him. "Stay safe."
He nods and for a second wishes things were different. "You too." She smiles and he places one last soft kiss on her lips, then heads back to the table where Cromwell and the guys are waiting.
For the interested, Incirlik is the US military base in Turkey, where we'll pretend our heros are stationed at some point during the gulf war. Er, the first one.
Came about when I was folish and trying to figure out how Sam managed the academy, a doctorate and learned to fly, all in time to make it to the gulf. As you will see, I didn't find an answer, but I did find smut.
Title: Incirlik
Author: elly427
Summary: She's young and blond and beautiful, and looks just different enough from Sara that it's not the first thing he notices about her. Takes place way back during the Gulf war.
Rating: Uh. I suck at these. R/NC-17? Sam/Jack. Vague notions of Jack/Sara, in that Jack and Sara are still married.
Spoilers: Oh no.
She's young and blond and beautiful, and looks just different enough from Sara that it's not the first thing he notices about her.
That comes later, later when she's pressed up against his side and he's remembering how good women smell, clean and warm even in the heat, and how soft and pliable their bodies are.
But when she and her group of officers walk into the bar, and spy him and his friends, it's certainly not her resemblance to Sara he notices. It's her regulation blouse, or rather what he can see underneath, what he can see peaking out from the un-regulation three undone buttons.
And she's young and blond and beautiful, and damn, funny too, and how she ends up sitting next to him he's not really sure in the same way he's not sure how his arm ended up around the back of her chair.
And it's not until later, when she's panting against him that she reminds him of Sara, because right now, at this table the laughing woman beside him is driving every thought of his wife, and the fight they'd had on the phone not two hours ago, and the fear that he's going to come home to an empty house, or a house with all of his belongings already packed and a mover on speed dial, out of his mind.
She leans into him as she laughs, her head thrown back and her neck long and pale and smooth and too much to resist after the amount of ouzo he has consumed so he leans forwards, and it doesn't take that much, really, and his lips are on her neck, hot and wet and gone before he lets his tongue dart out to touch the flesh between his teeth.
She looks at him, eyes wide and a little startled but then she smiles and the last thing he is thinking of is his wife.
[][][][]
She hadn't wanted to come out, and protested that she needed to get some work done before they left for the Gulf tomorrow and that had been when Adam had grabbed her arm and insisted that he wasn't listening and she was coming and he didn't care if she outranked him.
So she'd ended up being dragged to one bar, then another and another and she thinks they're on their fifth when Matt spies a captain he knows, sitting at a corner table with a bunch of other Air Force guys and she's being pushed into an empty chair and being forced to make small talk with a bunch of people she's never met, and this is exactly why she didn't want to go out in the first place.
But the guy to her left is funny, keeps making comments about the story one of his buddies is trying to tell, adding his own interpretation of how exactly he came about that scar and she tries not to laugh but he's funny, and he smiles when she makes some comment and pretty soon, pretty soon she's leaning into him and damn he smells nice. Nice smell, nice eyes, nice forearms. Things she shouldn't be noticing about another officer but is.
She's laughing at some comment he's made, some twisting of words that hits closer to the reality than anything the other guy has said yet, and she leans (whoops) and throws her head back and laughs, really laughs, laughs like she hasn't in a long time, what with school and the academy and training and combat. Her head tips back and rests on his shoulder and then his hot mouth is on her neck, teeth lightly scrapping, and then it's gone.
The smile breaks before she has the chance to stop it, and he looks a little dazed but smiles back, slow and soft and sexy and it makes her melt.
And she just can't take her eyes off that mouth, watches greedily as his tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips, then disappears, and she thinks maybe she's jealous, which is ridiculous because she's not even sure of his name. She raises her eyes and catches him watching her mouth and she bites her lower lip softly, not meaning it to be coy but it is, and she watches him swallow, sees his eyes close briefly. And maybe, maybe it would be okay to just lean forward, close the gap, just give in . . .
A hand on her shoulder, Adam, and she will kill him, will do it cheerfully, and he wants her to confirm that he actually managed to pull off some prank, so she drags her gaze from this guy's lips and turns.
But the hand on the back of her chair moves to her shoulder, strong fingers start rubbing little circles there, and if anything else, the tension between them increases.
And his hand stays there, is somewhere on her body for the next few hours, as the alcohol flows and slowly the crowd around the table thins. And eventual they find they are alone in the corner, the rest of the guys sitting on the other side, deeply engrossed in a discussion of . . . well, she's not sure, hasn't really been paying attention.
She's all but ignored everyone at the table except Jack (that's his name, she'd finally broken down and asked after . . . well, she can't remember what round it was, but suffice to say she's had a lot to drink) for quite some time, and they've been talking for some time, to the point of rudely ignoring the others around the table, his friends and hers who have left them alone.
She shifts a little, moves in her chair because after (quick check of her watch) four hours, her butt is getting a little numb. But the motion makes him stop talking, makes him pull back, and when had he gotten that close? she wonders, and he moves to pull his arm from the back of her chair.
And she's not sure how, is never quite sure what happened, but somehow, in reaching to try to stop him from moving, her fingers had tangled in his, and now their hands are sitting in her lap.
She looks down, then up at him, a little embarrassed, and then hurriedly pulls her fingers away. He lets her fingers go but leaves his hand sitting there, palm down, in her lap. She looks down, then up, meets his eyes and then is distracted by the slow smile working its way across his face.
And she swallows, and the tension that's been simmering between them all night works itself into a boil, and he's going to kiss her, she wants him to kiss her, and god, will he just kiss her, already? when he clears his throat and looks across the table at the other men, still engrossed in conversation, but still sitting no more than six feet away.
And she lets her shoulders slump a little, knows he's right, knows that kissing him would be a bad idea because she's not sure she could stop there, and she's leaving in a little over thirty six hours and it's not like she'll ever see him again and what is his hand doing?
He's slowly kneading the top of her thigh through her pants, and it's shooting electricity straight to her groin and she has to shift, suddenly uncomfortable but in the best possible way.
His hand stills a little and he meets her eyes and she spreads her thighs just enough and his eyes go dark, darker, and hot.
His fingers slide down, then up, and he's still kneading, but now, now, now she's shifting on her chair and he's hitting just the right spot and her eyes drift shut and she just feels his fingers on her.
Her eyes fly open as his other hand works on pulling the hem of her blouse from her pants, and then he's caressing the soft skin of her abdomen, and it feels so. good. and she realizes she should touch him but when she reaches over all she can do is dig her nails into his forearm as his hand slips under the waist of her pants.
They are unbuttoned and the zipper is half down before she really knows what he is doing, but then she is quietly groaning her approval as she feels his fingers through the lace of her underwear, and she opens her eyes and watches his face and he watches his fingers, then meets her gaze, leans close, shielding her from the view of the others across the table and breathes "Quiet." Hot breath trailing across her face and she nods, steels herself and still exhales sharply as his hand works its way under the leg of her panties.
She's panting, she knows, but it's better than the moan that is threatening to work its way out of her throat and she gasps as his middle finger unerringly finds her clit and begins pumping, circling, makes smooth strokes that have her on edge.
She digs her short nails into his arm, and he's going to have marks tomorrow, five little half-moons on his skin, and she, she is not going to be able to forget the feeling of being fingered in the middle of a smoky Turkish lounge for a long, long time.
She can't help it anymore, she's starting to make noises, sharp little sobs in the back of her throat as he teases and teases and teases and where did he learn to do that because she'd like to thank the woman who taught him god, that and she can't help it, she's going to make a noise loud enough to attract some serious notice when she comes which is going to be any moment and she can't believe she's doing this and -
He leans in, captures her lips for the first time in a deep, open-mouthed kiss even as he circles her clit faster, harder, moves his fingers away and moves his thumb to her clit and thrusts one, two, god three long, beautiful fingers in her and she is coming and breaking into a million wonderful pieces, and it's even better because he's swallowing her moans and holding her head with the hand that isn't still working under her panties and making her absorb the compulsion to move, to thrash her head from side to side and pump her hips down and down and down onto his fingers and thumb.
And finally she sags against him, and he slows the kiss, and his tongue moves back into his mouth and he places gentle, closed mouth kisses on her lips, then another one on her neck and she slumps back into her chair, keeps her eyes closed and tries to control her breathing as he flicks his thumb once and chuckles as she jumps. She drags one eye open, sees him right there, looking pleased and smug and he has every right.
She drags her eyes away from his, risks a look across the table, but the three airmen are still talking, don't seem to have noticed that she's just fallen apart not ten feet away from them. Eyes back to him as he puts his fingers away, up, brings a finger to his mouth and lets his tongue dart out to taste her there, and she shivers, because it's maybe the most erotic thing she's ever seen.
He wipe his hand on his pants, then reaches over, tucks in her blouse, does up the button and zipper on her pants and sits back, pleased.
She's still a little stunned, her senses still buzzing, but she's cognizant enough to notice the bulge in his pants, and she thinks he deserves some of his own treatment, so she reaches over and takes hold of him through his pants, squeezes, strokes firmly, and he groans, quietly, privately.
She stills her hand but doesn't pull away when he grips her wrist tightly.
"I want-' his voice cracks a little and she smiles, just a little. She has brought him to this. He clears his throat. "Do you want to take this somewhere not . . . " he looks around. "Here?" Privacy is a relative term in the military, and she knows they cannot go back to barracks, and if he's managed to get a private room, private probably means he's sharing it with at least one other person.
[][][][]
Her hand is on his cock, and she'd just come around his fingers in the middle of a bar, and he hasn't wanted to sink himself into a woman this badly in years. And any guilt he's feeling is easily pushed to the back of his mind by hormones and ouzo and the fact that in a few days he's going to be jumping out of a plane into the middle of enemy territory and he's pretty sure his wife is leaving him.
"Hotel?" he asks, a little hesitant, not wanting her to think he's treating her like the prostitutes he knows many of the other men have gone to visit. She nods, takes a breath and visibly gathers herself, then pushes away from the table and stands. She's beautiful as her knees wobble, still a little weak from her orgasm and a little swell of pride washes over him. This is probably stupid, is stupid for a hundred good reasons, but he doesn't care.
He stands, reaches a hand out to support her, helps her pull her coat on, and then rests a hand at the small of her back. The other men at the table finally look over (and she doesn't know how he was watching them, making sure they didn't notice he was slowly driving her out of her mind while they talked cars six feet away. Oblivious assholes) and he sees Miller smirk, shoots him a warning glance and ushers Sam around the table.
He's about to pull the door open when it flies open, and he meets Frank Cromwell's eyes.
"Jack, let's go. Orders came in. Wheels up in thirty minutes." he nods, and Frank's eyes dart from him to Sam and back again. He sees disapproval and knows he's going to hear about this later but doesn't care, slides his arm from Sam's back around her waist, marking her as his for the moment.
"Let's go." Frank holds the door.
"Give me a minute."
"Jack-"
"A minute." His CO backs down, shakes his head and moves toward the table in the back where the other members of his squad sit. He turns to Sam, cursing the timing, trying to figure out exactly what to say, to explain he has to go and he opens his mouth, still not sure what's coming out when her lips meet his, close over his, swallow his words and her tongue erases any memory of what he was going to say.
He pulls her closer, groans into the kiss as his still half-hard cock is trapped between them. She rotates her hips a little and he pulls away from the kiss, but not her, to look down into her eyes.
"I have to-"
"I know." And of course she does. She's not Sara. Instead of tears, she reaches up once more, kisses him gently, then releases him. "Stay safe."
He nods and for a second wishes things were different. "You too." She smiles and he places one last soft kiss on her lips, then heads back to the table where Cromwell and the guys are waiting.
For the interested, Incirlik is the US military base in Turkey, where we'll pretend our heros are stationed at some point during the gulf war. Er, the first one.
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That never even entered my mind, since this is like, a year and a half old. But yes! Pantsverse! Ohmygod!
Porn! Yay! And you think I'm awesome! You, sweetpea, make me gleeful! Yay!
*glees*