Atlanta Heat

AUTHOR: Kristen
RATING: PG (implied sex)
SPOILERS: After "May Day"
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Written in response to the July challenge. You must use the word "hot" three times. I've never written a short, before. I hope you like it.
SUMMARY: Response to a fanfic challenge: You mut write a Carter story where the word "hot" is used three times.

"What do you want, John"? It was a simple question. One that held with it so many possibilities, but only needing one answer. Her voice was sultry, but it was soft and gentle. How could a voice be sexy and soothing at the same time he thought.

He sat there in a patio chair of a wide-open deck. It was wicker chair, not one of those hard plastic seats that make you feel uncomfortable and demands that you shift constantly. No, it was nice. It had character, he mused. Just like she did. She had nice deep brown eyes that you could get lost in, with pale soft skin. Her wavy brown hair went down to her shoulders. Her sundress had small little flowers on it that accented her shapely body.

She bent down to his eye level placing her hand under her chin to gaze into his tormented eyes. He blinked and jerked away to scan her porch. Atlanta was *hot* in July. His white T-shirt was clinging to his body because it was drenched with sweat. Beads of it were dotting his brow. One lone drop rolled down his face and onto his neck, making him itch. Did she ask him a question?

His body slightly shook despite the humidity. Was he nervous to be here with her, a lone stranger that he found while strolling a park? It was his first free day out, well he had to return in four hours, but it felt good to roam aimlessly about the city. He longed to be out of the center, a place full of rules and prying eyes. He was tired of being poked at and mentally dissected into some mental category. It was so easy for them to diagnose him based on a few questions. Psychiatry was never an exact science; one couldn't see the physical problems. You couldn't repair a damaged mind.

"What do you want, John?" She asked again sliding her long fingers into his hair. They lingered along his jaw line making the hair on his arms stand up from the tingling feeling that started to creep up from some deep region from his stomach. He licked his lips to answer.

Before she could speak she slide her finger to his mouth silencing him with her hand. She reached past him and brought back a tall glass of water. It was dripping wet from the heat and she placed it against John's neck. The cold felt so good against his *hot* skin. The moment the cool wetness made contact John relented his control over to the beautiful woman. His defenses cracked, he was suddenly over come by an array of intense emotions.

For three weeks he had be wound up tighter then he ever felt. He felt guilty for betraying others, for letting his friends down, for giving in to his weakness. His eyes squeezed shut from the conflicting feelings that tugged at his heart and he wept in front of this woman. In the presence of a beautiful stranger he felt some sense of yearning.

"I...I want to be held," he whispered into her ears, the cold glass of water still lingering on his neck. The glass was swiftly replaced by the warmness of a set of soft lips that planted small kissed where the dampness of the water that remained on his skin.

Arms wrapped around his neck and slide down his back. He was enveloped in a tight embrace that filled his mind with security. He was being gently rocked and John crumbled to the floor knocking over the chair. He was held tightly on the back porch of a southern home, in the middle of a foreign heat wave. All of his cares were tossed away and he melted into the kindness of her arms.

After a few minutes he opened his eyes. She smiled at him and wiped his tears way while slowly rubbing the tips of her manicured nails over his back. The mood he was in just a mere few minutes ago was filled with anticipation and desire. She continued to stroke his side and ran her hand back up to his T-shirt.

"This needs to come off. It way too *hot* for constricting clothes, don't you think?" she purred into his ears.

John was overcome with a sense of excitement that was quickly dashed by a sense of dread. He stopped her inpatient hands from removing his shirt. She hesitated and looked at him questionably.

"I...I have some scars. I'm not sure..."

His stammering was cut short by a long passionate kiss. He returned it deeply, but still kept her hands still.

"John, I want to see you. I want to see all of you."

He remained motionless, too fearful of another rejection. He searched those dark eyes again seeing only a kind gentleness within their depths. Slowly he removed his shirt careful watching her reactions. Her face didn't betray any sympathy or remorse. She didn't look away or gasp.

John looked down at his body still unsure that someone else could overlook the lasting remains of such a horrible night. He stared at the incision mark that marred across his entire midsection. He never looked at the two that flawed his back, but he knew how discerning they could be. His thoughts were pleasantly intruded upon by her soft touch.

She slightly glided her fingers along the foreign line of his stomach and up his chest. She stared at him again and spoke. "We all have scars, John. Sometimes we wear them differently. I think you came here with me for a reason. I can't take your scars way from you, but I'll make sure you know that you are a whole man. You are so sexy. Your body is lean and long. But, most importantly you have a beautiful mind and soul, John Carter. However tonight, let's just enjoy your other attributes."

With her last sentence, John lost any nervousness that he held and channeled it into a new kind of energy. With that he slid off his suspenders and began to remove the rest of his clothing. The last thing on his mind was County or the clinic. All he was prepared to do was to enjoy the rest of his remaining hours of his pass in the *hot* Atlanta heat of the day, a changed man.

The End

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