Title: When You Say Nothing At All

Author: Geonn

Email: neil_j_miser@yahoo.com

Pairing: Sam/Janet

Category: Romance

Series: The Jukebox

Rating: NC17

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.

Song: "When You Say Nothing At All," by Keith Whitley or Alison Krause, whomever you prefer :-)

Summary: Try as I may I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing.


She doesn't have to speak.

You hear her desires in the subtle shift of cloth against sheets. Her fingertips make quiet rasping noises as they trail down the edges of the book she's reading. You turn your head and watch her, the way her free hand moves to her lips to chew on her middle fingernail. She notices you watching and looks up, smiling an embarrassed smile before going back to her story. She curls her fingers into a fist and rests them under her chin, blushing. She's obviously self-conscious about her fingernail chewing.

Her brown hair is on top of her head, clipped in a loose bun in preparation for sleep. She's wearing a purple pajama blouse with a pair of panties (unseen under the quilt) and her reading glasses. No one on base has ever seen her wearing the glasses and this simple fact gives you a thrill. You reach across the blankets and touch her hand, smiling when she wraps her fingers around yours.

She turns a page, the rasping of the paper deafening in the quiet bedroom. You snuggle against her and she curves her neck to give your head room. You rest your head on her shoulder, peeking at the page of the book she's reading as you're assaulted by the scents of her throat: perfume, face cream, make-up, soap... all overpowered by the intoxicating scent of JANET.

As she reads, you rest your hand on her bare thigh. She turns her lower body to get your fingers away. Spider-like, you trail your fingers up a little higher.

Janet turned and glares at you over the rims of her glasses, showing you that SHE is the boss and SHE is in charge and you WILL be punished if you don't stop. Apparently, she doesn't realize how arousing the look is.

You withdraw your hand, laying down on your side of the bed like a good girl. Janet, thinking she's won (oh, how little she knows!), goes back to the book she's definitely not going to finish tonight. You lace your fingers over your stomach and stare at the bulges your feet make in the quilt.

Janet reads a bit more, licking her oh-so-lucky thumb and turning a page. Before going back to the apparently engrossing tale, she glances at you. She's surprised you've given up so easily... perhaps she *does* know you as well as she should. You turn and curl against her side again. She sighs, adjusting the book in her lap so you don't block the words. You raise your head and explore her ear. Her wonderfully exquisite, perfectly formed ear.

The ear isn't your favorite part of Janet's body, but it was the first you ever explored in detail. It holds a special place in your heart for that. You remember that night in her car, leaning across the console, both of you eager for whatever small taste you could get of each other. After devoting much time to her panting lips, you decided to give her some oxygen and switched to her ear.

Her oh-so-perfect ear. The lobe is large, large enough to sufficiently envelope in your mouth and suckle upon gently. You swirl your tongue upward, into the canal and you hear her hiss. You nibble on the tender flesh, then purse your lips and blow into her ear. Moving your hand to her thigh again, you can tell she's brought her knees together. You smile.

She flips one cover of the book towards the other, leaving her thumb where it is to keep her place. Turning her body towards you, it's easy to angle your face into her kiss. She means for it to be a chaste kiss. A 'thank you for giving me attention, but I don't really feel like making love' kiss.

Your tongue is intent on changing her mind. You know she's wet; her tightly clenched legs give her away. So you allow your tongue to press against her closed lips. She doesn't want to let you in. She's being stubborn because making love tonight would break the rules.

Rule Number One. No making love on a school night.

Rule Number Two. No making love the night before either of you have to be at work.

Rule Number Three. Definitely no making love when Cassandra was still awake. Since the ladies had gone to bed early to prepare for an early day tomorrow, it was only nine-thirty. Their daughter was still downstairs watching TV.

She resists you. You insist. You press against her, slipping your leg between hers to separate them. You can feel the wetness against your thigh and know what you assumed earlier is true. Janet, knowing the jig is up, moans and parts her lips to you. Your tongues butt against each other and Janet tilts her head to one side to deepen the caress. You love the taste of her, love the genetic texture of her cheek walls.

Your hands move to her hair and release the clip. Her hair tumbles down, blocking her eyes. You see this through your half-closed eyes and reach up, brushing the bangs away. You pluck the glasses from her nose and ears, laying them gently on the headboard before looking into her gorgeous eyes. You love her eyes. You love that she watches you when she's coming. The thought of making her come tonight thrills you. Sometimes, you wonder if the anticipation of love-making is better than the actual act.

Then you remember the actual act. You remember the times she's made you leave your body. Remember how many times you've cried in her arms after orgasm. There are times at work when you see her drumming her fingers on her lip - the fingers that have been inside of you - and you get weak in the knees.

The kissing subsides for a moment and you raise yourself up, taking the novel from her and marking her place with a bookmark. She slides down on the mattress as you place the book on the nightstand. She places a finger on your lips, a silent reminder of the keen ears downstairs. You nod, then suck her finger into your mouth.

As you unbutton her pajama blouse, her knees come together and rub, up-down-up-down, to the side. She's nervous. After so many times together, she's still nervous about you seeing her naked. Moreso about you *making* her naked. You, on the contrary, love to undress her. When the last button is open, you sweep your hand across her stomach as you lower your head to her nipple. She bites off her moan as you close your mouth around the pink nub. She's erect, ready for you. She arches her back and you open your mouth to take more of her in.

She loves to be suckled. When she masturbates (and, thank you to the gods, she's let you watch her three times), she always pays closer attention to her breasts than any other part of her body (except for the obvious). As you kiss her nipples, you slip a hand between your bodies and touch her wetness. She moans, a bit too loudly, and turns her head to the side. You kiss your way up her neck, nibbling on her succulent flesh as you go, then pull her into a kiss.

You look into each other's eyes and you see everything you need to know. She's tired, but she Wants This. She needs to be quiet, but she Needs You. Silence and speed are required, which means simple is best. You deepen the kiss, sweeping your tongue across hers as your fingers press aside the material of her panties. Janet whimpers into your mouth. Holding her underwear back with your index finger, your middle and ring fingers slide across the silky folds of her sex. You rub her clit and she thrusts angrily upward at you.

She's wanton, needy, desperate. She closes her lips around your tongue, holding it prisoner.

Slowly, you begin to thrust in and out of her body. She rocks her hips against you, begging release. You take her hand and guide it to your own crotch, hidden behind a pair of gray sweatpants. Janet takes the hint and pushes the elastic band down, her palm immediately cupping the warm mound of your sex.

Your two bodies sag against each other, joined hand-to-crotch, breast-to-breast and lip-to-lip. A few minor scraps of clothing separate you, but surely the heat from your bodies will scorch that away in mere seconds. You lick her lips and she reciprocates, humping against your hand for release. Her breathing has transformed into animalistic pants, her forehead beaded with sweat. You kiss her eyelids and thumb her clit. She moans and gasps, her eyes opening and locking on yours.

Breaking the kiss, you cup her face and hold her head steady as you increase the pace of your fingers. Her hip-thrusting has become short and staticy; she's losing control. Suddenly, your hands are coated in warmth and you shudder. Janet Fraiser has just climaxed for you. You kiss her and return the favor, making her moan into your mouth. After a moment, you extricate yourselves and roll to your respective sides. Janet kisses your fingers, sucking her juices from them before offering her hand for the return treatment.

Spent, you both cuddle against each other. Janet kisses your eyebrow, slipping a leg between yours as you turn off the bedside lamp. She closes her eyes, resting her head on your chest. Quietly, she says, "I love you."

"Love you too," you reply, the endearments the only words spoken since you came to bed.

"How'd you know I needed that?" Janet yawned.

You smile. "You were practically begging for it."

"I didn't say a word!"

You kiss the top of her head. "I wasn't listening to your *words,* dear. Sweet dreams."

"And to you, Samantha."


Here Comes The Rain Again 1: Is It Raining At Your House?

Geonn

Stargate SG1

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