Rating/warnings, etc: adult, not explicit. ~800 words.
Summary: Wanton destruction of property sex.
Disclaimer: Merely playing in the sandbox.

A/N: Er, yes. This may have happened to me once. The landlord was not impressed.
Havoc - I know it's not quite 'aliens made them do it' but it's a step in the right direction.
Does anyone mind that the P-whatever planet code is just random button-bashing? No? Good.

xxxxx

It was the latest SGC mystery. People speculated on it in the commissary and the gym and on quieter missions, but no-one could figure it out.

Daniel fully intended to keep it that way.

xxxxx

A hand latched on to his arm, altering his course.

"Janet? How long have you been back?"

She merely took a moment to look up and flash him a smile before returning to her focussed negotiation of the corridor.

"How was P3—?" He started, then switched to the more pertinent question. "Where are we going?"

"Showers. I really need a wash." She indicated her slightly grubby fatigues. Then she dropped her voice to a whisper, "And I've really got to get you out of those clothes. For purely medical reasons, of course."

Fortunately it was pretty late, the SGC running on a skeleton crew, so no-one saw him being hauled around by a hundred-pound woman. Or the two of us entering the officers' washroom, he added as they barrelled through the doors.

"Ah, are you ok?" he asked, concerned by her fervour. He was all for spur-of-the-moment passion, but it was a rule set down very early in their relationship that nothing was to occur on base. All he could do was watch as she found a narrow pole – had she planned this! - and slotted it through the door handles, locking them inside.

"Yes, why?" she inquired mildly as she started removing her gear.

"Just…" he gestured around them. "Base?"

Down to her underwear, she stepped closer, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Fourth, please."

Oh Lord.

He didn't resist – though he was tempted to ask who she was and what she'd done with Janet Fraiser – when she reached for his fly. As she unbuttoned his shirt, she told him about the grateful inhabitants of P3C-984 and how they'd thrown a bit of a party in honour of their guests. The last performance before the team had gated back had been a fairly complicated dance, apparently designed to invoke the deity responsible for fertility.

She ran a fingertip around the inside of his boxer waistband. "When Rothman translated, he seemed pretty vague. I was thinking soil fertility, but about three seconds into the dance I changed my mind. I'm not even sure they needed the help of a God – I think the dance promotes the next year's "harvest" all by itself…"

Reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, she spoke next to his ear, voice like melted dark chocolate. "It was really hot."

She smelled faintly of foliage and sweat, pheromones that had Daniel's mind instantly conjuring up images of Bacchanalian rites.

That did it. He backed her up toward a shower stall and turned it on. She cocked her head and smirked. He simply reached behind her to snap the clasp on her bra.

"One handed…" she teased. "You've been practising."

"Yes, I come over when you're out and strap that really difficult one to a chair in the kitchen." She gave a snort of laughter as he ran her underwear down her legs. Her hands clenched in his hair as he knelt in front of her and bit her hip gently.

"Where do you want me?" he asked, voice rough with desire.

"Everywhere," she replied. Her eyes looked black from where he was.

He nuzzled her, causing her to grab his shoulders. "Daniel, you go down on me and my knees will give way," she warned.

She stepped back under the warm water and he almost crawled after her. Instead he stood swiftly and followed. Her head met the shower wall as his lips met hers, softly to begin with and then fiercer.

"Missed you," he gasped as she moved to nip at his collarbone. He lifted her, hands on her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around him with a sigh.

"I can tell," she murmured, illustrating her point by tilting her hips. He shifted, slipping against her, making her hiss, and then he was there and she was sliding down around him.

His first thrust was slow, deliberate, delicious. She made an incoherent noise and it vibrated through him as he pressed his cheek to her throat. The second thrust was deeper, harder, and it felt so damn good that he didn't register the cracking of tiles until he felt her shift backwards.

A frozen moment and then Janet swore, eloquently. He shut off the shower, reversed slowly, and disengaged. A number of splintered tiles dropped to the floor and shattered. They both skittered clear and stared at the damage in horror.

"I think we should…leave," he advised.

"Bonk and run?" she snorted. "Nice."

He waved his hands in alarm. "I am not explaining this to General Hammond!"

She paled.

Right.

He yanked his trousers on. "I vote for the closet next time."