(Author’s Note: Having an OC offers a chance to go back through various episodes and see where they might fit in. Rose would DEFINITELY have had a wonderful time in 1969--at least, in this writer’s imagination!)


“Rose, I know you think I’m part of the authoritarian Establishment trying to oppress you with my chauvinistic pig ways, but the fact remains that I AM your old man and I have serious personal needs that aren’t getting met,” O’Neill muttered in her ear. Rose giggled swatting his roving hands away.


“We agreed, flyboy, not off-world!” she replied. They were almost done with the communal laundry, folding it neatly and loading it into the wicker basket to take back to the bus. O’Neill pouted.


“We’re NOT off-world, we’re here on good old earth, and have been for over a week. Earth is the big groovy zone, remember?”


“Jack, I’m sorry you’re horny. I am too, believe me, but we don’t have time to make love not war—“ she told him sweetly, patting his cheek. The pout turned into a full scowl.


This trip back to 1969 had gone from confusing and annoying to downright irritating. Being stranded in the past was worrisome, but O’Neill had faith that Carter would figure something out with her solar flare hypothesis. She and Daniel were going to talk to Catherine in an hour, and find out where the Stargate was warehoused. O’Neill trusted them to be discreet—and unrecognizable.


Currently he and Rose were finishing up the weekly laundry while Teal’c, Jenny and Michael were waiting back at the bus. He sighed, looking at Rose again.


In terms of dressing to fit the decade, Rose exceeded in the most delightful way. She’d found a gauzy peasant mini-dress of light green paisley, with long draping sleeves and a very tight bodice that showcased her breasts in a way O’Neill found unbearably sexy. She wore suede gladiator sandals that laced up her shins to her knees, and had left her long red hair loose down her back. Today she’d added a beaded headband, giving her a slightly Indian look.




“Sorry, just thinking about getting my hands under that dress and into your underwear.”


“Ha, well that would be tough since I don’t have any on today,” she told him as she shoved the basket at his chest.


“Oh shit, don’t tell me THAT—“ He tipped his head to study her thighs, a predator gleam in his mahogany eyes. Rose glanced left and right in the Laundromat, and seeing it mostly deserted, turned around, took the back edge of her dress and flipped it up, flashing O’Neill a quick glimpse of smooth bare ass. He groaned loudly.


“Jesus, Rose!”


“Hey, it’s laundry day. I’ll put some on when we get back to the bus, okay?”


But as they headed out, O’Neill was determined that wasn’t going to happen.


***   ***   ***


“Okay, we should be back in a few hours, depending on what Catherine’s willing to tell us,” Daniel muttered, checking his watch. He looked at Sam, who was waiting by the taxi. O’Neill gave a nod.


“We’ll be here,” he replied. The bus was parked in a campground close to a payphone just outside the suburbs. Daniel managed a small grin and hurried over to the taxi.


In the bus, Michael sighed happily, an arm around Jenny’s shoulders.


“Many thanks for doing the laundry, brother—me and Jenny are going to go groove at the café for a while, get some good vibes at the art show. Wanna come?”


O’Neill shot a look at Rose, who was preoccupied with putting the clothes away.


“Naw—I’m seriously uptight at the moment—need to mellow out, you know?” O’Neill muttered.


Michael grinned. “Righteous, brother. I’ve got some supplies under the bus seat—help yourself. Teal’c wanna come to the café?”


“I will come,” the Jaffa announced with dignity. Within a few minutes, O’Neill sat on the steps of the bus, grinning as he watched the three of them walk off towards town. He got up and climbed back into the bus, swinging the folding doors closed behind him.


“Where is everybody?” Rose looked up in surprise. O’Neill was digging under the driver’s seat of the bus, fishing out a paper bag and grinning.


“Oh yes, Zig zag---some things you don’t forget. You don’t always admit to knowing them, but you don’t forget,” he responded cryptically. Puzzled, Rose watched as he opened the bag and carefully laid out the contents on the bus seat: matches, rolling papers, a small baggie of marijuana. She snorted.


“Jesus, Jack—aren’t you a little OLD for that?”


Swiftly, neatly he rolled a joint, big fingers flying over the paper with practiced ease. He sighed sadly.


“When in 1969, do as the natives do, right? We’ve got a few hours to kill, and I know you’re going to give me too many reasons why we can’t get naked, so I’m going to dissolve my frustrations away in a big cloud of Magic Dragon here.”


Rose laughed. “Fine—but I warn you, grass makes me crazy.”


He looked up at her, questioningly and she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.


“I have a hyperallergenic reaction to THC. I get a little unhinged.”


“Riiiight,” O’Neill scoffed. “This I gotta see.” He lit the joint and handed it to her courteously, a cynical smile on his face. Rose took a good drag off of it, her cheeks puffing out as she held the smoke. With a cough she exhaled. O’Neill had already taken his first hit, letting the fumes drift out of his nose. Rose rolled her eyes.


“Jesus we’re pathetic, Jack. Over thirty and toking up—“


“Speak for yourself—somewhere out there is a teenage me doing the exact same thing, babe,” He muttered as he felt a light buzz begin to hover. Rose took another drag, and watching her, O’Neill felt himself grow hard. Again.


He’d spend most of the week avoiding her, simply to keep away from the temptation and stay focused on getting to New York. Rose had done her best not to aggravate an already difficult situation, but the close proximity of the bus living quarters made things hard on all of them. O’Neill sighed, pulling in another quick lungful of bitter smoke. Rose was swaying, a small smile on her face; she took the joint from him and managed one more hit before passing it back.


“Oooooooohhhhh yeah. NOW we’re talking Age of Aquarius, Jack. The Angel’s Aquarium you know—fishies, fishies everywhere--“ she purred happily. “I Loooooove fishies, swimming in the water--“


O’Neill smiled, his dimples deepening as he studied her. He dropped his lanky frame on the nearest beanbag and set the joint down in the ceramic incense bowl near his hand. Rose rolled her head, her long hair swinging.


“I should have been a mermaid you know, swimming in silent seas—“


“That’s scuttling across the floors of silent seas, babe—and if you’re gonna be a mermaid, you need to be topless—“ he pointed out helpfully.


And hopefully.


She gave a lazy shrug, and her hands moved to the ties that held the front of her dress together. With a tug, she undid them, pulling the thin material open. Freed, her abundant chest surged forward; Rose giggled.


“There—uncovered my vital statistics—“


“Oooh yeah. Pretty substantial statistics, hippychick—“ O’Neill muttered as a thin sweat broke out on his upper lip. Rose was getting to him, and no mistake—standing there in no panties and her gorgeous chest out in the open. He shifted, feeling the hard swell of his erection pressing his jeans. Rose stretched her arms up over her head, and O’Neill groaned, watching her. Her breasts were full and the nipples were hard in the cool air of the bus.


“I AM a mermaid, but I lack a sea, or sea men to appreciate me—“


“I,” O’Neill announced, “Am willing to donate as much semen as you need.”


This struck both of them as uproariously funny, and they got the giggles, the spluttering sounds leaking out of them in snorts and guffaws. Rose was shaking, which did very nice things to her chest as far as O’Neill was concerned. After a while, he watched her collapse on the other beanbag, lolling against the vinyl, hiccupping as she tried to catch her breath. She propped one sandaled foot up, smiling over at him, aware of his pained gaze.


“You okay, flyboy?”


He couldn’t speak for a moment, his gaze caught in the powerfully erotic vision of Rose’s half-dressed body. Her thighs were open to his line of sight, revealing a glimpse of the soft auburn nest between them, the sleek line of her legs angled out in an inviting fashion. She looked down the length of her reclined body, her breasts free, the thin gauze dress barely covering her hips and waist.


“Jesus Rose, you’re fucking hot—“ he admitted with a dry mouth. She arched an eyebrow at him, a lazy stoned smile on her face, and the atmosphere changed subtly.


Sex was definitely in the air. Ripped sex, and O’Neill knew damned well that was often the most uninhibited kind.


“Yes I am—“ she told him as she licked her lips. “And I need to do something about that—“


Lightly, she brought her hands up and cupped her breasts, fingers tweaking the nipples lightly. Rose arched her neck and gave a little sigh. O’Neill leaned forward, eyes locked on her.


“Oh God—“


“Shhhhh, Jack. I’m trying to fantasize about you sweetie—don’t interrupt me—“ she muttered, closing her eyes. She let her hands slide down her stomach until the reached the hem of the dress and tugged it up a bit. One hand slipped through her soft curls to stroke them. Rose gave a little happy groan.


“Oh yesssss. I’ve spent lots of nights just like this thinking of YOU, Jack. Wishing it was your hand doing THIS—“ she crooned as she gently slid her fingers in a soft stroking pattern over the plump bud now visible through the fur. O’Neill gasped, stumbling forward on his hands and knees, torn between wanting to take her, and wanting to watch her. She licked her mouth again, and spread her thighs wider, both of her hands toying lasciviously with herself.


“Mmmmmmmmm, yes. I even did it yesterday, Jack. HAD to—I get too horny when I can’t have you, babe,” she confessed in a low voice. Her touching grew more intense, and O’Neill crawled forward, riveted to the sight. His shoulders brushed the insides of her knees. Rose writhed.


“Think about fucking you, sucking you off, Jack—Mmmmmmmmm”


He leaned closer, and pressing his face forward, he let his tongue lick her fingers as they moved, Rose opened her eyes, the pupils wide and black as she looked down at him. He kept licking her stroking fingers, his mouth wide and hungry. Rose groaned.


“Ooohhh yeah. Should I stop?”


“No!” came his hoarse reply. “Play with yourself, babe, you’re making me so damn HARD—“


She groaned again, long fingers sliding through the slickness from his mouth and her own juices, and O’Neill kept licking and kissing her fingers until she began to gasp. Her ass tightened, and O’Neill gently sucked her hard little knob as she came with a deep groan.


“OhJaaaaaackkk!” Rose cried. He waited until her spasms had died away, then licked her thighs and belly, panting.


“Oh GOD I nearly shot my load right there, Rose. Jesus!”


“Ummmm?” She sweetly smiled, sitting up in the beanbag. He nodded, face tight with lust, and she gently took the cap from his head, tossing it away as she ran a sticky hand through his silver hair.


“Let me suck you, Jack—“ she crooned. He rose up on his knees, struggling with his fly, but she scooted forward, long legs on either side of his knees and helped free him from his jeans. O’Neill’s cock sprang out, red and angry, and she sighed.


“Damn, you need it BAD, poor baby—“ Rose rubbed her face on his bare thigh. O’Neill slid a hand to cup her face under her ear.


“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Rose, suck me, PLEASE—“ he begged hoarsely.


She opened her lips and let him push himself deep into her waiting mouth. O’Neill groaned loudly.


“Ohhhh fuuuuuuuck!”


He tried to stroke gently, but his need was too great, and the heat of his intense arousal left no time for tenderness. O’Neill slid his hands around Rose’s head and plunged forward. She gave a little purr of encouragement, her hands wrapping around his bare ass, pulling him in deeper. O’Neill felt his stomach muscles tighten in hot pleasure.


“Oh yeah, oh yeah—“


He fucked her mouth in deep hard strokes, and by the tenth knew he was going to come like a damn volcano. He growled,


“Rose, I, I OoooooooohGod--“


Rose let her nails sink into his ass; and O’Neill bellowed, hard quick thrusts delivering the wet sprays deep within her throat. He slumped over her shoulders, lost in pleasure, barely able to stay vertical. Rose swallowed loudly, and pulled away from his softening cock, letting it side from her mouth with a small popping sound. Pulling him to her, they fell back on the beanbag, replete. O’Neill nosed a kiss along Rose’s hairline.


“Oh God, Hippychick, that was fantastic—“


“Yeah. I REALLY got off on you watching me, Jack, helping me get there—“ she confessed dreamily. He ran a hand up her thigh to cup her bare hip, the bone fitting his palm perfectly.


“Me too, sugarpussy, me too—“ he nestled against her for a long while, savoring the total release they’d both experienced.


  ***   ***   ***


After a while, O’Neill opened his eyes, aware that strong pot fumes were still filling the bus. He shifted, and Rose gave a little soft laugh.


“I’m soooo messed up, Jack baby—can I take your pants off?”


“Be my guest, love—“ he grinned, feeling her hands tugging the jeans off. He raised himself up on his elbows, watching her as she managed to pull his boots off as well.


“I like the jacket—you can keep THAT on—“ Rose purred, sliding a hand up under his t-shirt to play with his chest. He purred back.


“Careful—I’m still mondo horny, babe—“


“Me too. Jack--?” her voice went up in an unasked question, and he smiled at her.




“Would you show me--how YOU touch yourself?” she asked in a soft voice. Surprised, he looked at her; her expression was dreamy and sweet. He drew in a breath, eyebrows going up.




“Oh yeah, I’d LOVE to see that, flyboy--“ came her confession. She laid her head on his thigh, long hair tickling, and reached a gentle finger to his semi-erect cock.  Slowly, O’Neill slid his right hand down and circled the root of it with thumb and fingers barely touching.


“It’s nothing special, babe—“ he muttered, strangely moved by the intensity of her gaze. He slowly stroked himself once, and a surge of pleasure flooded his body. Rose sighed.


“Sure it is—“ she disagreed, eyes wide and brilliantly hazy. “It’s beautiful, and it feels good—“


“Mmmmmmmmm—“ came his comment. Hesitantly he stroked again, his touch falling into a familiar grip, a practiced rhythm. Rose inched closer, hands sliding up his strong thighs. He drew in a breath, feeling his cock stiffen shamelessly.


“Oh wow, Jack—you’re gorgeous stroking off, you know that? God, better than ANYTHING I daydreamed about—“


“Oh shit—“ The thought that she’d fantasized about watching him spiked his lust; he groaned. Rose lightly blew on his balls, her breath warm across them. O’Neill bit his fine lips.


“When do you do it, Jack? In the shower? Before going to sleep?” she asked. “How often?  Three times a week?”


He felt her hands cup around his to help each strong stroke, and the hot surge of pleasure it created made him groan again.


“Shower. Everyday. I think about you. About pushing into your pussy, riding you hard--“ he gasped. Rose smiled with delight. Rising up, she let her hot tongue flick across the head of his cock with each stroke. O’Neill’s gaze was riveted to the sight, his dark eyes glittering.


“Oh God, Sweeeeeeet—“


Rose gave three more licks, the pulled back, pulling his hand away, leaving his cock jutting up, rampant and hot.


“Oh baby I want it--“ She confessed eagerly as she shifted to straddle his hips. O’Neill felt the head of his cock lightly press into the silky wetness between her thighs and growled.


“Ride me, Rose, Yeah, DO it--“ he gave a powerful upward thrust, sheathing himself tightly in her; Rose grunted and tossed her head back, long hair swinging, chest bouncing as she moved.


Rose was small but strong and amazingly flexible; she leaned back on her arms, hands flat behind her, as she moved up and down on him. O’Neill used his hands to pull her skirt up, tucking the hem high under her chest and revealing the lush contours of her semi-nude body to his hot stare. He cupped her shifting breasts, teasing the nipples, luxuriating in the erotic gratification of the moment. She groaned happily.


“Oh fuck, Jack, you’re soooo big, so good and HARD in me—“


The sight and smell of their bodies locked together was almost overpowering, and O’Neill reached down, gripping the base of his cock hard. Rose slowed her stroke, licking her lips and waiting until he nodded.


“Don’t want to come too fast—“ he told her firmly. She nodded, changing the pace to a leisurely sinuous slide of her hips for several minutes. O’Neill sighed.


“Up, babe—“


Pouting, Rose reluctantly pulled away, only to be lightly pushed back as he nudged her thighs apart. Rose giggled and reached for him, biting the leather covering his shoulder.


“Yeahhhh---” O’Neill thrust squelchily into her, tugging her hips until her thighs slid up his ribs, and her sandals locked behind his back. Rose began to buck, panting as shudders rippled through her small frame. He closed his eyes tightly, not giving in to the roaring urge to come himself, and maintained a steady rhythm, thrusting into her. Rose writhed, hair a wild tangle around her shoulders on the carpeted floor of the bus.


“OhhJackILOVEyoooouuuuuu!” she wailed. He grinned, absurdly pleased to have made her scream it; his cock throbbed deep within her.


“Oh, Oh oh—“ she smiled up at him, dazed and soft. “Shift, babe, please, now.”


Puzzled but patient, he rose off of her onto his knees, hair dark with sweat. Rose rolled over onto the beanbag, lumping it under her so that her bare ass was up, the dress halfway bunched around her back.


“Take me Jack—“ she hissed throatily, “Oh God, please—“ she spread her thighs invitingly, and O’Neill leaned forward, kissing her nearest cheek.


“Oh you bet, hippychick, be GLAD to shove it in—“


“--My ass, Jack—“ Rose looked over her shoulder, her gaze hot and directly challenging. Stunned, he hesitated.


“Ah, geez, babe—“ he gulped, staring at her in uncertainly. She rolled her hips aggressively, and nodded.


“Yes, Jack. Don’t be shy, baby. I want you everyway I can get you. It’s going to feel so good to your cock--please?” She begged, hand sliding wetly between her legs. He drew in a deep breath, furious that the idea made his cock throb harder. O’Neill leaned over her to kiss her neck.


“NOT a good plan, Rose—that’s going to hurt, baby. I’m not small—“


“Jack honey, please—I’ve come two times, so I’m pretty damned relaxed,” she growled, backing up and rubbing against him. He rubbed back, his cock sliding up between her buttocks as she spoke again.


“I’ve . . . I’ve done it before, okay?” she admitted in a rush, “it’s not going to hurt me—“


O’Neill froze for a moment, mouth dropping open, but Rose pushed back against him again, grinding lasciviously and he grunted as his body responded.


“Shit, you’ve—“


“Umm hmmm—and I want to do it with YOU, okay? Please? I reallyreally want this baby—“ Rose pleaded softly. O’Neill shuddered, closing his eyes.


“Okay—“ he agreed, very softly. “But, Jesus, the MINUTE it hurts or you say no, we stop, okay?” He gave her a serious and concerned look.


She smiled at him, stoned to the gills, face full of love and desire.


“Oh yeah, flyboy—“ she agreed.


Gently O’Neill ran a big hand between her wet thighs, smearing the hot juice higher to the tight pucker of her bottom. He bit his lips, and gently pressed the head of his cock to it. She sighed.


“Yes, Jack, right there—push, baby—ohhhh!”


Gripping her hips, he pressed forward through the ring of muscle, barely breeching it. The sensation of pressure sent a shudder through him. His fingers tightened.


“More, Jack—“ Rose dropped her face, resting her cheek on her forearm, sighing. He bit his lip and slowly inched forward. Rose drew a breath in. She let it out with a soft sigh.


“Ooooo you’re gentle baby. I can take more of you, Jack. Deeper—“


O’Neill thrust gently, and sweat rolled down his temple as he fought the desire to shove harder. His cock was engulfed, pressured beyond all pleasure, and the sensation was maddeningly good. Rose rocked back.


“Come on, baby, slow easy strokes to start, come on—“ she squeaked.


“Rose, oh God, it’s so tight—“ he muttered through clenched teeth, She laughed, and the sound of her relaxed and pleased sent fire through him. O’Neill gently pumped, pulling her by her hips. Rose whimpered.


“Oh yeah, oh yeah—you’re gonna come, Jack O’Neill, you’re gonna come your fucking brains out—“ she taunted. He nodded raggedly, looking down, seeing his thick cock sliding in and out of her, four, three, two, one--


With a sobbing growl, he tensed, his lust erupting deep within her, his fingers squeezing her hips hard. Rose shook under him with the force of his orgasm, soft mewling sounds escaping her smiling mouth.




Lazily, she cleaned him off with the dripping washcloth, moving with the tender movements of a woman well satisfied. The windows of the bus were open, the bitter fumes escaping into the sky, the incense bowl empty. She yawned, and when she turned to O’Neill, his stomach growled.


“Munchies!” she giggled. He nodded, climbing back into his jeans and zipping them up. “I want doughnuts and pretzels and Cheerios—“


Gently O’Neill pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest. They both sighed in utter contentment.


“Tell me –“ he asked softly. Rose smiled into the leather of his jacket.


“A friend of my brother’s, and a good friend of mine, Jack. Back when I was in college. He loved me, but he was too wild for any serious commitment. We were lovers after—well, after I had a bad experience. He was loving and gentle and completely uninhibited. I mean COMPLETELY.”


“So I would guess—“ O’Neill grunted with a sigh. Rose kissed his throat.


“—He was good to me and for me when I needed it, and it was all a long time ago—“


“--Which will be in about twelve years from now—“ O’Neill pointed out with a laugh that Rose joined in.


“Oh God you’re right—and I STILL want some doughnuts--“




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