Title: Scratch the Itch
Fandom/Pairing: 30 Rock, Jack/Liz
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. The words are.
A/N: First time ever writing 30 Rock, so be nice. Written for the Porn Battle, prompt: Jack/Liz, taped-together bra.

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Her bra itches. Like really itches. Not the bra, so much as the tape holding it together. It was her last bra that worked without help as of this morning (she doesn't realize that's weird) and halfway through the morning meeting, something snapped. A locked office and some strategically placed tape fixed everything, but now it itches.

She's on a call with Jack, in his office. Not really on it—but it's his mother and he wanted her to be there for moral support. She's not allowed to speak. She's not allowed to move because apparently even though his mother is four hundred years old, she has excellent hearing. Not moving is very difficult when the tape is itching so badly. It's right in the middle of her boobs, and a little underneath the right one. (She never understood the women who named their boobs. Were they serious or was it just something they joked about as teenagers and still thought was funny? Of course, if she did name them one would probably be Princess Leia, but she hasn't decided which one and she hasn't picked out a name for the other one yet.)

Jack's almost done. He's saying goodbye. And though it generally takes approximately four minutes to get off the phone with his mother once he says goodbye (Liz is there for moral support during these calls a fair amount) at least an end is in sight. She's not going to squirm, she's not going to squirm, she's not going to squirm.

"Oh thank God!" she says loudly once he hangs up. She scratches hard in between her boobs and sighs contentedly.

"Lemon. For Don Geiss's sake, what are you doing?" (She's become used to him using "Don Geiss" where most people would use God.)

"My bra broke in the morning meeting today. The tape itched through that entire phone call. And actually, I mean, can you look away or something? And do you have any tape? Because I really need to fix this before I go out in public again or I'll end up making a fool of myself."

"You believe you are not making a fool out of yourself by itching your breasts and asking me for tape so you can manually fix your bra in my office?"

"Blerg." She pauses. "Well, less of one than if I itched my boobs in front of a whole elevator full of people. You're just Jack."

He sighs heavily, and she's certain he's going to say one of his "Lemon, what happened in your life for you to…", but he doesn't. He just goes to his desk and gets some tape. (Not scotch tape either. Heavy-duty masking tape. She's not sure why he has heavy-duty masking tape in his desk. She's not sure she wants to know, but she's not questioning it because it's the best kind to fix her bra.)

"Okay, well, um, turn around or something?" she says and he obliges, no snark, before she pulls her shirt over her head.

It's usually best to fix the bra when she's not wearing it, but there's no way in hell she's taking her bra off in Jack's office, so she'll have to make due. Itchy scotch tape gone, replaced with a couple of strips of masking tape. Much better.

As she's molding the last piece to her bra, she hears and intake of breath and, "Lemon."

"Jack!" She crosses her arms over her boobs. "You're not supposed to look!"

In two steps he's across the room, one hand in her hair. His mouth is on hers and it feels like it's exactly what he's supposed to do.

"Jack," she whispers as his lips move to her neck, but she doesn't have anything to come after it.

The next thing she knows she's sitting on his desk, skirt bunched around her waist (oh Don Geiss, this is so much like a porno) and it turns out she did take her bra off in Jack's office. She's freaking out because she's pretty sure he didn't lock the door. Why would he have locked the door just for a phone call with his mother? And while she somehow missed that fact when she was fixing her bra, she's acutely aware of it now, with his teeth marks on his neck and his fingers on a nipple.

She ends up not caring, not aware, because he's inside of her before she realized he took her panties off. It's weird, it's really weird, or it should be weird, but it feels incredibly incredibly right. He even finds a piece of lettuce in her hair and laughs instead of lecturing her on her inability to eat like a normal person. It's weird because he's not acting like Jack, and it's weird because she's having sex with Jack, but maybe this is what all his misguided attempts at mentoring her really were—misguided attempts to sleep with her.

She feels like an idiot, skirt bunched around her waist, no shirt but still wearing shoes, but then he finds a place no one's ever found before and sex isn't such a chore after all.

"Oh God," she can't help but moan and if Jonathon comes in right now she's not sure she would care. (Okay, of course she would care, because he would probably start screaming and pulling her off of Jack because he does seem to be in love with his boss but hey, who says she's not?)

She's pretty sure the only reason she's thinking about being in love with him is because every time he thrusts his hips rub against her in just the right way and she's flying and tingling all over like the first time she got too drunk but she doesn't think this is going to end with her puking everywhere.

When Jack pulses inside her she finds she actually kind of likes it (really likes it), and she holds him close after he's done.

"Who knew a taped-together bra would get you going?" she laughs finally, not sure what they're supposed to do now that they've had sex in his office.

"Lemon, I'm loath to admit this, but even the food I so often have to point out for you in your hair tends to…get me going as you so eloquently put," he says. He pulls out, steps back, and begins to redress. "It's absurd, really, I've slept with much younger and more flexible women—"

"Blerg."

"—but you're the one I can't get out of my head."

Well that's less blerg than she expected. They're quiet as she finds her bras and panties and they become presentable again (though the bra took a little extra tape). He kisses her once, twice, and they step back just in time as the door opens.

"Mr. Donaghy?" Jonathan shoots her an evil glare when he notices that she is still there. Liz tries not to laugh. "Your two o'clock is here."

"Right. Well, thank you, Lemon, for the moral support on the phone call. I will likely need you again tomorrow."

She smirks at Jonathan on the way out.