Title: Tether

Author: Geonn

Email: neil_j_miser@yahoo.com

Rating: NC17

Pairings: Sam/Janet

Category: Romance

Disclaimer: These folks don't belong to me. I stole them from MGM's toybox without asking their mommies for permission. I promise to return them more or less unscathed.

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

Notes: Rocketchick offered a signed, 8X10 wallpaper of the writer's choice to whoever picked up her challenge. And I'm a sucker for bribes. The story had to meet the following criteria:

- A completed story posted to the list or privately to me in email
- Sam/Janet only, any rating
- At least 2500 words
- Submission received by midnight, January 1st 2004

It also had to somehow incorporate her wallpaper titled "Gravity Girl & Analog," which can be found on her website. I've already sent it to her, and she's already mailed out my reward :D So I've decided to share it with you. *g*

Summary: Some people just need the right tether.


Samantha Carter was never so happy as when she was with both feet off the ground.

She flies so effortlessly, so free. So elegantly. When someone does something with such passion, such grace and such awe, how do you pull them away?

Janet knows all of Sam's passions. From well-known passions like quantum physics and wormhole mechanics, to lesser-known passions of lock-picking, to safely-guarded passions like having her feet tickled during sex.

Janet knew it all. But mostly... she knew Sam loved to fly

Airplanes were just the beginning of the passion. Any fool or bird could fly several hundred feet above the ground. Amateurish.

Jets peaked her interest a bit more. The thrill gleaming in Sam's eyes as she broke the sound barrier was unmistakable to someone who knew her intimately. She got off on the speed and the altitude.

Trips through the Stargate only heightened her habit. She once calculated how fast she had to be going while in the wormhole (a decimal far too small for Janet to remember with any accuracy) and had admitted to going weak in the knees.

The one true trial in their relationship had been when Sam had gotten addicted to a true speed drug; the armbands Anise put on SG-1 a while back had blinded Sam to any possible side effects that may have presented themselves. She had shut Janet out, ignoring warnings and protests.

Safety? Who cared about safety when she could move like the wind? Hell, faster that the wind!

Luckily, the armbands had run their course. Sam and the rest of SG-1 had returned to normal and Sam had apologized to Janet both publicly and privately. In their bed, Sam had pressed sweaty flesh to sweaty flesh and breathed four magical words into Janet's ear. "I'll take it slow."

It had taken all her willpower to not climax right then.

Samantha Carter taking it slow was like Pablo Picasso doing a paint-by-numbers. Like a NASCAR driver switching to the pace car. Janet had kissed her hard and made the tenderness worth her while.

She'd thought Sam had been a changed woman, but she quickly fell back into old habits as human beings are wont to do. The next day, Janet found a speeding ticket on the kitchen counter. 75 in a 55 zone. Janet had shaken her head and pushed the ticket into the pile of bills to pay.

She'd given up on changing Sam's ways. Given up on expressing concern for the reckless danger she constantly put herself in. In lieu of arguments or preaching, she simply waited each night until Sam's breathing took on the slow, steady rhythm of sleep, then rolled over her put a hand on her lover's back. "Let her be safe," she prayed, eyes closed, hand against the warm flesh of half her soul. She then kissed Sam's shoulder and curled against the sleeping woman's body.

The prayers seemed to work, for a while. Not just for speeding or traffic accidents, but she managed to keep from sustaining serious injuries from Gate missions as well. It seemed to be perfect, which is always a harbinger for something to go wrong.

---

The den was lit by a roaring fire. Sam was nestled in front of it, flames dancing over her face as she read a hardback novel. Janet watched her from the doorway, trying to picture a frame around the scene and wishing she could hang it on the wall over the fireplace. She sighed, announcing her presence, and stepped into the room. "Good book?"

"Yeah," Sam said, not looking up. She smiled at Janet's presence, however. The very air changed when the two women were together; an imperceptible shift in the way of things that made others tilt their heads in wonder at the slightly-new way of the oxygen.

Janet stood behind the chair and leaned down, lips to the top of Sam's head, nose buried in her hair. She kissed Sam's head as she inhaled her hair; the scent more intoxicating that any cheap liquor she could buy. She smoothed the ruffled strands of hair as she straightened and asked, "What are you reading?"

Sam named her favorite author and Janet nodded. She brought her hands down, resting them on Sam's shoulders. "I assume it's pretty good?"

"Amazingly good," she confirmed.

Janet loosely gripped Sam's shoulders between her fingers and thumbs, then pressed lightly. Sam inhaled between clenched teeth, rolling her head forward as Janet pulled her palms back. "Mm," Sam said.

Janet brought her thumbs up and pressed against either side of Sam's spine, her fingers continuing to knead. Sam closed the book, marking her place with her thumb. Her eyelids fell, her lips parted and she surrendered to the feeling of release Janet was giving her.

"More?"

"More."

Janet moved around the side of the armchair and Sam stood in unspoken agreement. They lay together in front of the fire, Sam peeling off her sweater and laying it aside. She was wearing a sleeveless white t-shirt underneath the sweater so it wouldn't be too awkward if their daughter Cassandra wandered in (it was unlikely as the girl was upstairs, locking into her room with her computer and cell phone).

Sam crossed her arms and laid her head contently on her hands, closing her eyes and smiling as Janet straddled her hips. The brunette made sure to keep most of her weight on her knees so that her hips left only a dull, warm weight on Sam's body. It felt divine...

Janet began to massage Sam's back in earnest, alternately numbing and then exciting different areas of pleasure. She touched Sam under her right arm (causing a hiss from the blonde), trailed her fingers along the underside of her left arm, she laced their fingers together momentarily and stole a kiss to the back of Sam's neck.

Confident they wouldn't be discovered, Janet smiled and untucked Sam's undershirt.

"Wait," Sam whispered.

Janet smiled. "Well, now, is someone suddenly becoming a wallflower?"

"No, it's just..."

Janet pushed up Sam's shirt, revealing the blonde's brassiere... as well as the ring of bruises from below her ribcage to the top of her waistline.

Bruises that hadn't been their during her latest post-mission exam. Bruises that couldn't be explained by the Stargate. Janet sat up, eyeing the dark purple splotches on her lover's back. "Sam?"

Sam was already sitting up, tugging her shirt back in place. "I was going to tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

"I was in a minor accident. On the bike."

Janet felt the word "WHAT?!" burning the back of her throat, but her lips and tongue weren't cooperating. She wanted to throw up. Sam continued:

"I'm fine. Just a little beaten up, is all. The bike is only scraped and it can be fixed for next-to-nothing. I ripped my jeans, but that's about all that's wrong." She took Janet's hand in hers and squeezed it. "Don't be angry."

"How fast were you going?" Janet finally managed to ask, her speech clipped and forced.

Sam looked at Janet's shoulder, rather than in her eyes. "I was on that old stretch behind the Lakeview? You know, behind the line of trees?"

"Oh, Sam..." Janet knew exactly what that meant.

"I wasn't going as fast as I usually do."

Janet couldn't bear to hear the truth, but knew she would imagine far worse if she didn't know. "How fast?"

"98."

Janet felt something prick the back of her throat. She pulled her hand away from Sam's and fought her tears as she rose. "Were you wearing a helmet? Safety gear?"

"I was, Janet. Trust me, ever since you and Cassandra came into my life, I have worn them every time I'm on that bike. I swear to you."

Janet sniffed and brushed her hands on her jeans. "I'm going to bed."

"It's seven-thirty," Sam said softly.

"You don't have to come with me." Janet turned and left the den, left the warmth of the fire, left a crying Sam behind.

---

"What happened to this one?"

"Motorcycle accident," the paramedic sniffed with disdain. "I swear, some of these fuckers deserve it. This one wasn't even wearing a helmet." He took one edge of the blanket, while Janet took the other. "Three. One, two, three." They lifted the body and transfered him to a gurney.

Janet flipped a penlight into his eyes. "Age?"

"17."

"Goddamn," Janet whispered.

"What is it?" the EMT asked, looking at the bloody face of their patient.

Janet tucked the light back into her pocket. "He won't live to see 18. There's nothing we can do."

---

Janet sat up with a strangled cry trapped in her throat. She went to the bathroom and released it into the sink along with most of her dinner. She filled the basin with cold water, filling a glass as well and downing it in one swallow. She cupped her hands in the icy water and splashed it into her face, splattering her lacy nightgown with the wave.

She looked at her pale, bleary expression in the mirror and licked her lips. She'd worked at a general hospital for several years, 'earning her scars,' so to speak. She didn't want to count how many times she'd seen Bike Vs. Bus or Bike Vs. Tree or Bike Vs. Semi. Those bruised, battered, bloody and broken faces haunted her.

And now she was in love with a speed junky. A speed junky who insisted on riding a motorcycle, who was stubborn about her helmet, who...

Janet stopped that line of thinking. She emptied the sink, poured out her water, and headed back to bed. She stopped short of the mattress and continued on, going out of the bedroom and down the hall. She found Sam asleep on the couch, sheet pulled over her and snoring against the pillow from the guest room.

Tears had dried on her face and her bottom lip hung open. Janet smiled and sat on the edge of the coffee table. "I'm not angry with you, sweetheart," she whispered low enough so as not to wake the slumbering Major. "It's just hard to love someone so eager to spit in Death's face. I see Death every day and I'm so scared that it's coming for you." She looked at her hands. "And if that day comes, I--" She looked at the dark wall of the living room. "I would die in an instant, Samantha."

She stood and kissed the blonde's cheek. "You are everything to me. Everything." She gathered her nightgown around herself and turned, going upstairs.

---

"You know, it's only a matter of time."

Janet looked up, surprised at the proximity of the voice. "Sam," she said, startled to see the woman she'd been avoiding the past three days. The blonde had switched from a normal jumpsuit to the blue gown that was required in all sterile areas of the base. She also wore rubber gloves. Janet tugged down the mask covering her face so they could converse easier.

Sam entered the room and looked at the incubator shell that separated them. "What's in there?" she asked.

Janet looked through the glass as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh. Uh... specimen brought back by SG-3. I t-think it's either fudge or taffy... some kind of combination of both." She looked up. "What is only a matter of time?" Janet asked, remembering Sam's initial statement.

"It's only a matter of time," Sam repeated, "until we ran into each other again." She sighed and leaned forward. "We can't avoid each other forever. Not with Cassandra in our lives. Not with... how we feel."

Janet glanced at the observation room. They were alone. "I can't keep finding those bruises on you, Sam. It's bad enough the danger your job puts you in, but..."

"I'll quit."

Janet closed her eyes and smiled. "Easy to say, nearly impossible to follow-through."

"Can I say how much I love you, for what it's worth?"

"It's worth so much," Janet assured her.

"Can I tell you how much I need you every day, every minute?" Janet didn't reply, so Sam pressed on. "Can I tell you that last night when I woke up without you, I've cried harder than I ever cried before, other than when my mother died? That sometimes at night, rolling over and feeling your naked skin against mine is infinitely more thrilling than going 200 miles an hour on a deserted stretch of highway?"

Janet looked into Sam's excited eyes. The blonde had slowly circled the table during her speech and was now standing inches away from Janet. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

"So you would give up thrills for me?"

Sam reached out and touched Janet's cheek. "You're the only thrill I need. Janet, I-- all my life, I've lived as close to the edge as I could without falling off. I've teetered my entire life. And most of that time, I felt gravity tugging on me, pulling me down. And I knew eventually I'd lose the battle and fall.

"But Janet... oh, God, Janet, since I've known you, I've had strength I never knew I possessed keeping me from falling. I defeated gravity because... because you're my tether to the solid world. As long as I have you hear, I know I'm safe. I know I can come back because I have something beautiful and miraculous to come home to." She kissed Janet quickly and brushed her hair. "Take me back?"

"I never let you go," Janet whispered.

---

Sweat mingled.

Kisses were stolen, brushed and swallowed with quick gasps. Whenever Sam moved too quickly, or got carried away, Janet 'shhhhed' in her ear and she calmed. Her muscles relaxed. Her breathing eased. They were bonded together, the sweat pouring from their bodies forming an inseparable epoxy between them. Two became a single.

Janet found Sam's lips, then her ear. She nibbled the lobe, then said, "Sam?"

"Yes," the blonde managed.

"Go."

Sam lifted her head, her eyes centimeters from Janet's. Their breath mingled outside of their bodies. They hung outside of the world for a moment and Sam frowned. "What do you--"

"You're a speed junky. Let me be your fix."

Sam brushed the hair from Janet's eyes. "Janet--"

"Go," Janet insisted. "Go. Let me be your tether." She wrapped her right arm around Sam's shoulders, pressed her face against Sam's throat, and held on tight. Sam angled her thigh against Janet's center. She reached up with one arm, bracing herself against the headboard, and rocked forward.

"Ahh-uhhh..." Janet hoarsely cried.

Sam thrust, bucked, thrashed, rode and pushed Janet to the edge again and again. Janet reached between their bodies, finding where she ended and Sam began. She touched the downy hair between Sam's legs, hair she had only minutes ago scraped with her fingernails, and slipped a finger inside.

"Do you want more?" Janet asked.

"Yessss," Sam hissed.

"Then take it," Janet growled, thrusting two fingers into her lover's eager body.

Sam said something incomprehensible as she came around Janet's fingers. "That's it," Janet whispered. Sam poured. "Give it all," Janet asked. She closed her eyes, bit her bottom lip, and silently joined Sam in release.

When both had descended, Sam rolled to one side while Janet settled to the other in a well-defined, yet never-rehearsed, move. Their lips met in slow, wet kisses, their hands forming lingering trails over their wet, nude bodies. Janet whispered, "Thank you for letting me hold you back."

Sam kissed Janet's forehead. "Thank you for helping me defeat gravity."


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