Author: Geonn

Email: neil_j_miser@yahoo.com

Pairing: Sam/Janet

Category: Romance, First Time

Rating: R

Series: The Midnight Series

Disclaimer: Stargate and characters are the property of MGM, Gekko, etc. Mainly you need to know no one with the name of Geonn owns the deed to these ladies.

Archive: Yes, just let me know where it's gonna be.

Summary: Janet makes her move.

It started by telling Sam a lie.

She said that she was going to be at an overnight conference, that she wouldn't be home that night. Sam had seemed inordinately disappointed by this fact and only Janet knew why. It meant no midnight caress.

How little she knew...

That night, Janet dressed in a cotton blouse, black slacks and left her hair down. She drove across town just before 11:30, parked at the corner of Sam's street and watched her friend's house until the lights went out. Her wait wasn't long; at a quarter before midnight, the final light was extinguished and Janet exhaled softly. She checked her make-up in the mirror; not much, just a little on her lips and eyeliner... she really wanted Sam to notice her eyes. She felt they were her best feature and no one seemed to compliment eyes.

She got out of the car, leaving her purse under the seat. Crossing the street to Sam's house, she fiddled with the keys and found Sam's spare. She pushed through the gate, the creak making her wince. She walked up the path, eased the key into the lock, and turned. It opened easily, as if it had any choice but to yield. Janet stepped inside the house, closing the door behind herself and standing in the foyer for a few minutes, inhaling slowly.

One lamp burned at the back of the house, in Sam's living room, next to the couch. Fingers from the single bulb sought every shadow, dwindling to nothing by the time it reached her shoes. The entire house smelled of coffee. Sam had made a cup before she went to bed. Janet didn't understand how that woman drank caffeine before bedtime, but it was a skill she prayed for more than once.

She dragged her fingertips over Sam's entry table, leaving her keys there next to the day's unopened mail. Slipping out of her heels, she walked slowly down the hallway to Sam's room. Pictures lined the walls, catching and reflecting the ambient light of the house in opaque rectangles of white. Janet knew by heart what the pictures portrayed: SG-1, Jacob, Cassandra... herself. Sam's bedroom door was opened a crack, just barely revealing a light beyond. The bathroom light was apparently on. She'd never known Sam needed a night light. If things went as planned, she'd find out a lot more about Sam that she never knew.

At the threshold of the bedroom door, Janet paused and took a shaky breath. It was too late to have second thoughts, but here they came... She put her fingers to the knob and gently pushed. The door opened slowly, revealing the pale-yellow room. The bed was slanted against one wall across from the door. She stepped inside, taking a deep breath of Sam's perfume. She didn't know the name of the scent and hadn't ever been able to match it in blind tests at the department store. To her, it would always have to be "Sam's Scent."

About the time she noticed the bed was empty, she felt the weight slam into her from behind. She yelled out as the attacker grabbed her from behind, wrestling her forward. She panicked and fought herself around, facing her attacker, and brought her left hand up. She curled her fingers downward and pushed the heel of her palm forward, shoving up. She hit the attacker in the jaw, causing the taller person's head to snap back.

They fell onto the bed in a heap and Janet belatedly realized what had happened. "Sam, it's me!" she shouted.

Sam continued to fight the brunette's arms, pinning them to her sides and squeezing Janet's legs with her own. She froze, looking down at Janet with wide, crazy eyes. She was panting. She looked beautiful when she was panting. She was wearing a white tank-top, her breasts hanging heavy and unrestrained within the cotton, Sweat glistened on her forehead. Her hair hung loose around her face. "It's me," Janet repeated.

"Janet?" Sam gasped. She hit Janet once on the shoulder. "What the hell are you doing in my house at midnight?! What the fuck were you doing?"

Janet leaned up and pressed her face to Sam's neck-shoulder junction. Her tongue lashed out and she licked. She licked sweat, flesh, she licked Sam. Sam said, "Ahhh," and tried to push her away, but Janet nipped at the skin. "Hey!" Sam snapped. She pushed Janet down onto the mattress, the brunette looking up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. Sam brushed one hand over Janet's face, clearing errant strands of hair. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, sitting up.

Sam was wearing red boxers with a white elastic waistband. Janet put her hands over the waistband and said, "I love when you sneak into my bedroom and touch me."

"I don't--"

The denial died on Sam's lips.

Janet's kiss came to life in their place.

Outside the house, a light rain began to fall. It pelted the sidewalks, the pavement, the lawns and threatened to flood the streets. Janet's car, at the end of the block, stood over the storm drains. The flood from the sky seemed to flow towards the vehicle, building between it's front two tires and into the drain. Thunder cracked quietly for a chance, lightning bathing the world in a soft blue glow. The thunder was just loud enough to drown out the cries coming from one bedroom of Samantha Carter's house. Only the two occupants - who were fully unaware of the sudden deluge - heard the human cries in the night.

The rain picked up speed, tearing leaves from branches and twirling them across the night sky in search of new roosts. The bare branches swung aimlessly, looking for something to grab onto to ride out the storm.

The world filled with wetness and the screams of nature as two women, insignificant in the eyes of the universe, pantomimed the entire maelstrom.

Lightning crackled across cloudfaces, tearing rips in the heavens with loud, thundering explosions. The night strobed. With a sound like a woman weeping, a tree lost it's battle against the world and began to tumble to the ground. In the morning it would be cleared by ground crews. It was of no consequence as now, the sole casualty of a storm that moved on as silently and as quickly as it had arrived.

The two women at the center of their own storm lay in bed together, on opposite sides, staring at each other. Both were naked, both had sweat, both were wet with themselves and each other. Sam kissed Janet's face tenderly; her brow, her cheeks, her beauty mark, the tip of her nose, her closed eyes, her chin, her jawline. Everything was worshipped. Janet stroked Sam's hair, weeping silently at the sight of her new lover. They touched lips, they twined fingers, they pressed leg to crux and moaned into each other time and again.

Neither could separate, each feeling as if the other was a vital organ recently transplanted. To leave it behind would be to die, to lose the thing you had been waiting for to bring you to life. Sam fell asleep first, tears dry on her cheeks. Janet couldn't sleep and pulled herself reluctantly from Sam's body, feeling as if she was leaving a part of herself behind. She took advantage of her position and kissed Sam's lips good-bye. It felt so wonderful, she did it again.

She got up, pulling on a robe and tying it loosely as she walked out of Sam's bedroom. She kicked the shoes she'd left behind in a previous life and went into the kitchen to find something to drink. She found the coffee Sam brewed before bed and poured a cup, taking it out onto the back porch. Dawn was breaking, the smells of the night's storm still fresh in the air. She stood in just a robe, her hair a mess of straw on top of her head, her body chilled and rejuvenated by the early morning sun. She felt human, after several hours of feeling animal. She loved mornings, early mornings, when you could pretend you were the only person awake in the entire world.

She sipped her coffee and turned, ready to go back into the house. She was stopped dead by the sight of Sam stumbling towards the back door out of a Botticelli painting.

Her hair, finger-combed. Her body, unclothed. Her face, puffy with sleep. Her body, naked. She stood in the doorway, bringing both arms up and leaning against the frame. Her breasts hung forward, her eyes closed and she crossed her feet at the ankles. She licked her lips and Janet almost came. "I love you," Janet said. She hadn't meant to say it. She hadn't formed the words on brain nor tongue. Yet there they were. "I love you," she repeated, deciding Sam deserved a purposeful declaration.

"You're in my robe," Sam noted. "Only people I love can wear my robe."

"Say the words," Janet said softly.

"I love you," Sam said, smiling sleepily.

She walked onto the back porch, pressing her body against Janet's. She draped her arms over the brunette's shoulders, stooping to rest her head on top of Janet's. "I'm cold," she commented.

Janet pulled her hands from Sam's waist and untied the robe. Pulling the two halves apart, Sam pressed closer and Janet closed the robe behind the blonde's back. Sam kissed Janet's hair. Janet stroked up and down Sam's sides, making the taller woman shudder. Sam nuzzled Janet's face, brushing their noses together in what her mother had called an 'eskimo kiss' and stepped out of the robe. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Janet asked, taking Sam's hand and being led.

"To sleep."

As they got under the covers, curling in each other's arms, closing their eyes to rest, Janet was struck that it felt more intimate than making each other climax for the first time. She pressed her face against the soft, warm flesh of Sam's breast, kissing it softly, then actively began to pursue unrealized dreams in slumber.