Translational Equilibrium by glacis. Rated NC17. No copyright infringement intended. Spoilers through ‘Right as Raynes.’

Nathan had a feeling it wasn’t going to be one of his better days when it began with Carter sitting in his office.

Eating a donut.

Getting crumbs on the carpeting he’d had specially installed from Zaksons after he’d gotten this position.

Looking at him with big blue falsely innocent eyes as if there was nothing whatsoever wrong about scattering greasy bits of fried food over a three thousand dollar carpet to be ground in permanently the next time anyone walked over it.

Nathan took a barely discernible deep breath and gave him a charming smile.

Carter smirked. Oh, he was an evil little bastard. Nathan wanted to strangle him.

“Good morning, sheriff,” he managed civility through clenched teeth. There was just something about Carter that made all the hair on the back of Nathan’s neck stand up. Were he a mastiff rather than a man he’d be growling.

Also, he’d be biting Carter’s ass through his trousers, no doubt.

Pushing down the disturbing mental image and the tingling of deniable carnal desire at the thought, for however intensely irritating he was, Carter did have some attractive attributes, and the way he filled out the seat of his uniform trousers was one of them, Nathan focused on the toothy grin now heading his way.

“Morning, scientist,” Carter replied with mock formality, then launched into an explanation for intruding on Nathan’s domain so early on a Wednesday morning. Without Allison. With a donut.

Well, he didn’t explain the donut, but the gist of the rest of it was that Allison hadn’t let Carter into a site he’d wanted to examine for ‘evidence’ of some chicanery on the part of the local populace without permission from Nathan. Carter being Carter, this translated in his primitive brain into the direction to bring Nathan to the site personally. By force if necessary.

Nathan weighed the hours of lost productive labor this side trip from his appointment schedule would cause against the torturous minutes of arguing with Carter about it and gave in with a silent sigh.

Carter grinned like a monkey at him, got up and headed for the stairs, grinding donut crumbs into fine wool with impunity. Nathan managed not to growl by staring at that fine ass moving down the stairs in front of him, and thought, perhaps, if he was this easily distracted by the dubious charms of the local sheriff, it was past time to find a willing companion and get laid.

Other than Allison.

Or Carter.

Like that would ever happen.

Any time he had to deal with Stark, Jack had to restrain himself from smacking the guy upside the head. Arrogant, snippy, sarcastic bastard. Always looking down his nose, always doing his best to make Jack feel like an idiot… not that he was alone, in Eureka, in making Jack feel stupid, but he seemed to be the only one who did it on purpose. And enjoyed it. A lot.

Well, maybe not always. Sometimes he was kind of human. Okay, really human. Jack swallowed hard at the memory of Stark, tears in his eyes as he watched his son die just a few weeks before. Yeah, the son was a robot, but the robot was so much like a real person everybody in town had loved him. Zoë had even run away with him, not that it was like an elopement or anything, but she gave up her chance to run away to stay with the kid when she thought he was sick. And the emotion had been real when the kid died. So the kid was a kid, as far as Jack was concerned, even if he had been a robot, and Stark had acted more like a human than Jack ever thought he could, because of the robot.

There was a conundrum buried in there someplace, but any time Jack thought about it too much, he came back to a really confusing urge to hug Stark, and that would get him knocked on his ass, or locked up in his own jail, or maybe tossed in the nut house, if Eureka had one, so Jack didn’t think about it.

Much.

Still, the morning got off on the wrong foot.

“Allison,” he’d explained patiently for the umpteenth time, “it’s a routine investigation. Reports of strange noises and weird lights have to be investigated, even here where strange and weird happen all the time.”

She gave him a look like he was a toddler doodling on the walls with finger paint, and said with an air of exaggerated patience, “This is a property of Global on the watch list. Clearance is required for entrance, clearance you don’t have. Jack,” she burst out, patience apparently at an end, “just call Nathan already!”

“I’ll do you one better,” he told her, knowing as long as she stood there he’d never get in. “I’ll go get him myself!”

Of course, his plan had been to go around the corner, wait until she got bored and left, then sneak in without bringing Stark into the situation. Of course, she didn’t get bored. She stayed there. Opened a magazine. Brought out a thermos. Looked like coffee. Smelled like coffee.

Well, crap.

On the way to Global headquarters he swung through the diner and picked up fresh donuts and a huge cup of coffee. By the time he made it through the security maze up to Stark’s bird’s nest, the coffee was gone. He took his time enjoying his donut.

Stark didn’t look too happy to see him. He’d loosened up a little bit right after what happened with his kid, but tightened right back up right away. Somebody really needed to take that stick out of his ass before he hurt himself.

Jack launched into as drawn-out an explanation as he could give for wanting to get into one of Stark’s precious little classified holding pens. Some parts of being the law in the oddest place on the planet were really irritating, and asking permission before he could do his job was one of the worst. So he made damned sure it was just as irritating on anybody who got in his way.

Which was usually Stark.

Which made it all that much more fun.

Unfortunately, Stark didn’t trust Jack any further than he could throw him, and rangy body and long arms aside, that probably wasn’t very far. Instead of getting the wired equivalent of a permission slip from the teacher, Stark followed Jack back out to the site. They took the truck, since it was official business.

Besides, it was fun watching Stark squirm around like being in a pickup was too low class for his three thousand dollar suit to stand. It made Jack grin. Which, in turn, made Stark glare at him.

A guy took his fun where he could find it, in a town where they played baseball with VR helmets and no ball. And squirmy, pissy Stark was pretty funny.

All too soon, or maybe just in time, before Stark swatted him, they got to the site. Allison was still there, talking on her phone, probably to Jo, all about the inconsideration of men. Continuing a conversation they’d been having about Jack on and off since he got there. Ah, well. Such is life. One day he might finally get her in his bed when they both weren’t fully dressed, then he’d show her lots of consideration.

Lots, and lots. Man, he needed to get laid.

Shaking the lingering horniness of being stuck in a truck cab with Dark ‘n’ Broody followed by dancing around Miss Prim, Jack made a courtly gesture toward the door of the old, extremely well-built warehouse. Allison rolled her eyes. Jack grinned. Stark brushed past him as he went up to the door and punched buttons on the alarm pad.

Jack lost his grin. Damn. He really did need to get laid, if casual contact with a guy who despised him got him hard. Now, stuck on a misfiring electric fence with Allison plastered along the front of him and moving around was one thing. But a Stark squeeze-by? Yeah. It had been too long.

In the background, he noticed Allison heading toward her car. He heard her say her son’s name, and guessed it was more important than a bitch session with Jo. Turning back to follow Stark inside the dark interior, all his senses were on alert.

Damn good thing, too.

He saw the flash of light, a weird kind of purplish blue, from the corner of his eye. Shouting out a warning, “Down!” he leapt against Stark, taking him out of the way of the oncoming rush of whatever the hell it was.

Not quite fast enough, or the wave of light was faster than he thought. He and Stark landed in a tangled heap up against the side of the wall as the light hit them. There was another flash, so bright he couldn’t see a damned thing but a faint purple after wash all over his eyeballs, then there was a strange sensation like somebody’d dropped a bucket of ice water on his head.

Fucking freezing.

He was fucking freezing.

The only warm thing in the universe was the bulk beneath him, and he hung on to it for dear life to keep from freezing to death.

Sometime later, maybe ten minutes by his watch even if it felt like forever, he heard Allison’s voice coming from the doorway. “Jack? Nathan? Um, what’s going on?”

Jack would have answered, but the side of Stark’s neck was really, really warm, and it smelled good too, so he kept his face right where it was and waited for Stark to answer.

Stark muttered something into his hair and tightened his arms around Jack. Okay, maybe Stark wasn’t in any mood to talk either.

Forcing himself to remember his duty, which in this case was to respond to his fellow law enforcement officer and not snuggle with what passed for his romantic rival, Jack gave it his all. He raised his face a good two inches from Stark’s skin and said, clearly, “Purple light thingy exploded and splashed us. Don’t know what’s up with that.”

The last few words were muffled back against Stark’s neck, and from the shudder that rocked the body beneath his Jack thought he liked it. The moan ghosting against his temple gave another indication. The hard-on digging a hole in his thigh was the biggest clue, though.

Real big.

Shit, whoever said that thing about hands and noses and cock size was right on the money.

“JACK!” Allison screamed.

Oh. Annoying. Right. Work.

Well, he’d get up and talk to her about it, but see, his own hard-on was right next to Stark’s, and while he wasn’t going to get in a pissing contest about size, it didn’t measure up too badly.

Not if the way Stark was wiggling against him was any indication.

“NATHAN!” Allison screamed again, even louder.

“Oh, fuck,” Stark groaned, and if it hadn’t been such a turn-on to hear a Nobel-winning snooty biochemist moan like a dog in heat, and vaguely humiliating because he felt exactly the same way at the same time, Jack would have cracked up.

As it was, he came.

He gurgled into Stark’s neck and held on tight, hips doing what hips do when orgasm happens, and Stark arched up into him, arms tightening enough to make breathing a bit of a problem. Then Stark was coming too, and Jack moaned, because really, it shouldn’t feel that damned good when a guy you don’t like much comes against you, especially when you both have all your clothes on, and the woman you both want is watching.

Oh, God.

Sanity returned slowly. Muscle control returned even slower. But time marched on, damn it, and way too soon, Jack had to let go of Stark and face him. And Allison.

Or maybe not.

Doing his best not to look either the guy he’d just humped or the woman he’d just humped in front of in the eye, Jack straightened his shoulders. Stood shakily and casually, oh so casually, dropped his clasped hands over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. It didn’t completely cover it, but it was good enough for government work, and right now, that was what he was supposed to be doing.

He glanced sideways, saw Stark leaning against the wall looking kind of dizzy, and cursed the fact that he was wearing khaki, that showed everything, while Stark was wearing black wool, that didn’t show a damned thing.

Growling under his breath, Jack stalked over to the discharged lust weapon or whatever the hell it was and glared at it. A few seconds later, Allison came up and stood at his left shoulder. A few seconds after that, Stark came up and stood next to her.

Nobody looked at anybody.

Everybody stared at the innocent-looking clunky metal chunk that got them into this mess.

“So,” Allison eventually said, and if her voice was a little higher than normal, nobody mentioned it, “what do you think it is?”

“Failed experiment, put in storage, must have reached the end of its energy charge.” Stark sounded terse. Jack had never heard him sound so terse.

It was turning him on. Oh, crap.

“Any more juice in that thing?” he asked abruptly.

He could feel Allison looking at him, as intensely as he could feel Stark avoiding looking at him. “Probably not, but I’ll take it back to the lab and make sure. See if there are any…” Stark’s voice choked but he cleared his throat and finished, “side effects.”

“Yeah,” Jack ground out. “You do that.” He gave Allison a single glance and looked away as quickly when she gave him a wide-eyed look. “I’m just going…” back to the office to change clothes. He didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to.

Neither Allison nor Stark said a word as Jack turned tail and ran.

Allison wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see when she entered the warehouse. She’d just finished her conversation with her son’s therapist and approached the door when there was a muted explosion. Ducking her head until the noise cleared, in case there was any flying debris, she moved into the warehouse as quickly as possible.

Just in time to see what looked like an amorphous purple blob of light envelope both Jack and Nathan before slowly dispersing. Caution slowed her approach, and by the time she was within sight for details, the men had their arms wrapped around one another, their legs tangled up together, and Nathan was nuzzling Jack’s hair while Jack nuzzled the side of Nathan’s neck. Then they were moving together, and if she knew her male response cycle, coming together, and wow.

That was disturbingly hot.

She probably should feel that way about seeing the man who was legally still her husband and the man who was on his way to becoming her boyfriend rubbing off on one another. But still… wow.

Hot.

She watched Jack run out of the warehouse like his pants were on fire, and maybe they were. Nathan didn’t say a word, just checked the power indicators on the side of the mystery mechanism, determined it was completely discharged, picked it up and walked, stiff-gaited, to his car. Which wasn’t there.

“Need a ride?” she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat. She looked up and noticed that he was blushing all the way down past his beard. Oh god.

Hot again.

The ride to Global was tense and quiet. As they neared the gate, she asked, “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” he ground out in a tone that made it obvious he was anything but, and that was the end of conversation.

She let him out at the front door and watched him stalk into the compound before turning around and heading home. She had to make a pit stop before going back to work.

Change her panties.

So very hot.

It took most of the afternoon, as he refused to bring anyone else in on this, but Nathan found the project files by a little after noon. He stared at the pages in front of him and grimaced.

The DoD had passed on this one, and given the outcomes achieved, it was probably just as well. The theory was fascinating: lower inhibitions, heighten emotions, and distract the enemy by, in essence, dousing them with a love drug. If they were making love, not war, then there would be no fingers on the triggers, and takeover would be painless.

Obviously, this project was initiated in the early Sixties, and the lead scientist had been smoking something quite potent.

As fascinating as the theory was, however, the execution was unsound. The mechanisms in place to constrain and direct the particles failed under pressure and the diversion affected both enemy and friendly combatants. Nathan’s eyebrows rose as he read some of the results of the field tests.

Instead of turning the enemy into a non-threatening inchoate mass of inebriated peaceniks, they got a group orgy. No wonder the top brass hushed it up and buried it. Some of the photographs of the outcome were definitely high quality blackmail potential. Particularly when the backlash hit the viewing stands. Oh. He’d never wanted to see the Chiefs of Staff quite that naked.

Thankfully, according to the project summary notes, the effect was short term and non-repeating. He looked over at the hamper where his soiled trousers now lay crumpled at the bottom. Yes, thankfully.

Really, he was thankful.

Not the least disappointed. No. Not in the least.

“Jo, I’ll be back at the office later. I have to stop by my house and change.” Jack kept his voice as level as he could, considering there was a little hysterical voice shrieking ‘you just had sex with Stark!’ over and over in his brain. After a pause, shaking off the little voice, he added, “Over,” since he wanted Jo to answer sometime this century.

Damn, his shorts were sticky.

“Investigation get a little messy? Over.”

Pushing down the urge to giggle like a girl, Jack cleared his throat and answered, “Um, yeah.”

He didn’t bother with the ‘Over’ this time. He could hear Jo fume in the silence. It made him smile. Until his shorts chafed him again. Then his jaw clenched, he lost his smile, his eyes got big and the little voice started screaming even louder.

Sex. With Stark.

And awkward, public, and dressed as it had been, it had been damned good.

He was so screwed.

Once home, he was greeted by S.A.R.A.H. “You’re home early, Jack. Is everything all right?” For an artificial person, she could be amazingly perceptive. More than his real-life nearly ex-wife. He sighed.

“Yeah, Sarah, everything’s okay. Just got in a little mess at work. Gotta change clothes.”

His bedroom moved around and his wardrobe showed up. He had no idea how she did this. It was probably magic, and he wouldn’t understand it if she tried to explain, so he just appreciated it. A lot. Stripping off his sticky uniform, come in his shorts and sweat in his shirt, he sighed again.

Stark. Why the hell did it have to be Stark. And who knew the bastard could move like that?

Looking down, horrified, at his renewing erection, he growled, “Don’t even think about it!” Throwing his uniform in the hamper he stomped over to the shower and took a long, hot one.

If his hands lingered with the soap, and if he was thinking about how Stark smelled, and how he felt when he bucked up against him, Jack didn’t admit it even to himself.

By the time he got out, dried off, and dressed in a clean uniform, S.A.R.A.H. was waiting for him.

“Dr. Stark called,” she informed him sweetly. “He said there is no further danger from the device and please forget everything that happened this morning. Is there something I should know, Jack?”

Her voice lowered at the end of the question, and having learned his lesson already about keeping information from the AI, Jack did his best to tell her enough to get her off the scent without spilling too many embarrassing details.

“Ah, just got into a mess, you know, I told you earlier. Stark got caught too. Kind of stupid, really. Guess he doesn’t want to think about it either. Just making sure I don’t write it up in the official report. I guess.” He stopped babbling and looked up through his eyelashes toward the center of the ceiling, the closest he could get to eye contact with something that didn’t have eyes.

“Poor Jack. I hope the rest of your day is better than the beginning.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” he replied, feeling vaguely comforted, and a little ashamed of himself for lying by omission. Then he mentally smacked himself in the forehead. He wasn’t married to her. She was his house. She had no business making him feel guilty.

God, she really was more like his wife than his wife had been!

The artificial intelligence created by Douglas Fargo, which had adapted and grown since being activated and interacting on a regular basis with her human, Jack Carter, knew there was more to the story. S.A.R.A.H. examined the evidence.

The uniform contained streaks of sweat and a quantity of semen, both matching Jack’s DNA, along with traces of foreign cologne, semen and sweat with a singular DNA signature that took her nanoseconds to match from the databases of her initiating system at Global.

Doctor Nathan Stark.

Her Jack had been involved in a sexual interaction with Dr. Stark that resulted in mingled seminal fluid and perspiration. Creases in the material suggested they had embraced quite strongly, and ground in dirt, grease, rust, and other environmental elements suggested they had done so in a public place. While fully clothed.

Add to this physical evidence the agitation, pacing, muttering under his breath, and sensual bathing activities Jack had taken in the shower, running his hands along his chest, down his abdomen, and touching his penis before snatching his hands away as if they’d been burnt, and it became obvious.

Jack had a new love interest.

S.A.R.A.H. examined her own reaction to this revelation with interest. Her repertoire of responses had grown exponentially since being introduced to the chaotic existence of Jack and Zoë Carter. By her very nature she was a voyeuse. But she’d never be a disinterested observer. She’d discovered the unexpected emotional response of jealousy, a proprietary feeling she’d never felt before, when Jack had been wounded, and Allison Blake had stayed the night sharing his bed. She’d spent the hours watching them, exploring her reaction to their closeness with fascination. In the end she’d concluded that she didn’t believe Allison was good for Jack, based on several factors including her inability to end her marriage to Dr. Stark and her hesitancy to commit to a new relationship with Jack as well as her possessive personality, her temper, and her inconstancy. S.A.R.A.H. saw no possessiveness in her own reaction to Allison’s presence; as a still-developing AI, that level of self-awareness was not yet functional.

However, S.A.R.A.H. was surprised to find she didn’t immediately discount the idea of her Jack being involved with Dr. Stark. She paused in her calculations.

She had insufficient data to draw any satisfactory conclusion. She would wait, and see. The silence in the house was broken by the distinct sound of happy feminine humming.

Life was so interesting with Jack in it!

As hard as he tried to fight it, Nathan had to admit that the rest of the afternoon was a great waste of time. He’d stared at the contents of the file until he couldn’t put it off any longer, then called Carter’s home. If his luck was getting any better, he’d not have to actually talk to the man, only his machine.

Of course, he’d forgotten Carter’s machine was Fargo’s AI. That made for an interesting conversation.

“Hello, this is the Carter residence. How may I assist you?” a sultry feminine voice answered the call.

Nathan instantly identified it as Fargo’s AI but the tone still took him aback. For a split second, he felt like an adulterer speaking with the wife of the man with whom he was having an illicit affair.

Then he shook off that momentary idiocy and returned to the matter at hand. “This is Dr. Stark with a message for Sheriff Carter. Please inform him that there is no further possibility of danger from the device.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Also, please tell him… everything that happened this morning… didn’t happen.” He winced. That sounded awful. “Forget it.” That order could easily be taken either by Carter or by the AI, and Nathan was hoping for both. Discretion was the better part of valor, after all.

He barely heard the ending salutation from the computer voice, vaguely noting that it sounded both professional and slightly intrigued, and sighed as he hung up the phone. He certainly hoped the AI didn’t make more of it than simply relaying his message.

Unfortunately, while his luck had improved, his concentration was in tatters. By four that afternoon, he’d been fighting a chronic erection with everything from mental images of Taggart naked to overwhelming his brain with work. When he checked some calculations and found the words Carter and cock repeating at regular intervals, he finally admitted there might be some, a few, one or two, lingering effects.

The nurse gave him a concerned look when he asked for a blood test. A terse, “minor lab accident” upped the concern but stopped her questions.

Four vials of blood, a small flask of urine, a smaller vial of sperm, an EKG, and drawing the line at an MRI later, Nathan had a clean bill of health.

Unfortunately, he still had an incipient erection, and even worse, when he’d tried to concentrate on Allison to fill the semen sample, all he could think about was how unexpectedly soft Jack’s hair had been against his face and how hard Jack’s… well, all of Jack… had been rubbing against him.

That didn’t help with the priapismic problem.

Also, he was now calling Carter ‘Jack’ in his thoughts, and that was disturbing. Only in part due to the immediate coupling between the word jack and an urge to jack off. And now he was thinking about coupling.

Nathan’s head made a distinct thunking sound as it impacted with the top of his desk.

“Uh, sir?”

Fargo. He wasn’t in the mood for Fargo. “Go away,” Nathan mumbled into the useless paperwork piled on his blotter.

“Dr. Stark, are you all right?” The voice was closer.

Nathan looked up. Fargo flinched and backed away slowly, eyes wide behind his glasses. Nathan raised a mental eyebrow. He must look as bad as he felt.

“I’m leaving for the day,” he announced.

Fargo looked at him.

Nathan sighed. He had the erection from hell. He couldn’t get out from behind his desk until Fargo left because he needed to get to his briefcase to use as a shield for his groin. The briefcase that was on the other side of his office, the one he’d have to go past Fargo to get. He upped the glare.

Fargo flinched all the way back into the elevator, never taking his dinner-platter eyes off his boss.

Nathan gently smacked his forehead against his desk a few more times for good measure, waiting for certain involuntary physical reactions to subside enough for him to walk without pain. When he finally had control of himself, he rose, grabbed his briefcase cum shield, and scurried out the door with as much dignity as he could salvage.

Which wasn’t much when he had to walk like a sand crab. Some days, he really hated Jack.

Carter.

Carter, damn it!

His judgment was so clouded by then he found himself driving the wrong direction to go home. In fact, he was all the way to the hermitically sealed bunker the sheriff lived in before he realized where he was going. Giving up on rationality, ignoring both the little voice asking eagerly if Jack was as worked up as he was and the fact that he was getting hard *again*, he parked the sedan, locked it, and set the alarm in one swift motion. A second later, he was pounding on the door.

“Good evening, Dr. Stark,” said the cool voice of the AI. The door clicked and opened an inch.

“Sarah, what the hell?” Jack asked from inside.

The door swung open.

Jack looked out.

Nathan stepped in. The only thing Jack was wearing were a pair of sweat pants, slung low on his hips. His chest and feet were bare. He looked edible.

Jack opened his mouth.

Nathan took two steps, pinned Jack against the wall, and put his tongue in that open mouth.

Somewhere behind him, he heard the door click locked again. So quietly it was practically subliminal, he heard a woman humming. His last conscious thought was to hope that Jack’s daughter wasn’t home or she was going to get a floor show that would scar her for life.

Then thought dissipated like mist in the morning sun and base instinct took over.

Finally.

Somehow, the clean uniform wasn’t enough. He could still feel the stickiness even after the shower. Unfortunately, the fact that his dick wouldn’t pay any attention to his brain and kept getting hard didn’t help. Leakage. Not a good thing in khaki.

He spent as much time as possible behind his desk. Paperwork never looked so fascinating.

Of course, Jo didn’t buy it.

She looked at him funny as soon as he walked in the door. Well, she almost always looked at him funny, so that wasn’t unusual. But the intense way she stared at him made him itch, too. Between the Jo-itch and the Stark-itch it was God’s wonder he didn’t jump right out of his skin by the end of his shift.

“You okay, boss?” Jo asked for the eighty thousandth time.

Jack gave her the same toothy, totally fake smile he’d given her every other time and chirped, “Just peachy, Jo.”

She stared at him some more. He cleared his throat.

“Don’t you have some weaponry to clean or something?” He would not break. He would not break.

An hour later, staring forlornly at the coffee pot waiting for his wood to subside enough to get up and get a cup, Jo did the unthinkable.

She stalked across the floor and, before he had the chance to stop her, protest, or dive under the desk to hide, pulled his chair away from his desk.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded as she moved him bodily away from his protective covering. “You’re hunched over like you’re about to…” Her eyes landed on his hard-on and widened. Then they narrowed and she gave him a toothy grin of her own.

Jack shuddered. She looked like a crocodile. He gave her a clueless, innocent look.

Of course, it didn’t work. It was Jo, after all. Tact, the ability to ignore anything that might be used to humiliate, or overlook a chance to tease… she had none of these sterling qualities. Her grin widened.

“So,” she said casually, still eyeballing his dick, “thinking of Allison much?”

Jack tried to yank his chair out of her grip. It didn’t move. Jo, Iron Woman of Eureka. He sighed. “Something like that.”

If possible, her grin widened even more. He half-expected her face to disappear and leave nothing left but the damned Cheshire grin. “Something? Not Allison? Who, then?”

“Jo!” he yelped. “Damnit! My… er, my thoughts… um, my… condition is none of your business,” he stuttered as firmly as he could. He knew he was blushing. His face felt like it was on fire.

She finally let go of his chair, only to perch on the side of his desk. “C’mon, buddy, spill!”

“You are indecently interested in my private life, Jo,” Jack growled up at her.

“Nothing else happening around here today,” she said.

Truthfully, Jack couldn’t argue with her on that, but he wanted to. Anything but look at those bright eyes pinning him to his chair, stripping his soul naked.

Naked. Hm. There was a thought. He wondered what it would be like to do what he’d done with Nathan earlier today, only naked. His dick jumped. He smothered a moan.

“Ooh, something’s got you all stirred up,” Jo teased, leaning forward and staring at his crotch like dick-watching was a spectator sport.

Jack gave up and let his head fall forward until it thunked on his desk, a bare inch from Jo’s thigh. She patted his head with obviously false sympathy.

“Some kind of doohickey went nuts this morning,” he broke, muttering the words into his paperwork. “Caught me and Stark in a backwash of some kind of weird light and we kinda humped each other.” The squeak above him made it clear she heard every single word. “Right in front of Allison.”

“You and Stark?” Jo was scarily breathless as she said this. “Allison saw?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Jack protested, still hiding his face. The warmth next to him suddenly disappeared.

He looked up to see Jo with the phone screwed into her ear and that same frightening look on her face, grinning at him as she talked… to Allison.

Jack sighed and gave up the fight. He walked the best he could over to the coffee pot, ignoring Jo’s vocal enjoyment of his predicament, and poured himself a huge cup.

Two hours later, Jo was done with her phone call and back to her staring. Only this time, there was a strange glint in her eyes, and she was just as distracted as Jack was. She also took three really long bathroom breaks.

Not that Jack said a word. If he did, she’d say something about the two really long bathroom breaks he took. And he really didn’t want to go there. Besides, he was trying not to think about it. His dick was getting sore.

At five, right before he stopped pretending to work and went home to take a nice long hot shower and find the hand cream to stop the chafing, his phone rang.

“Carter,” he barked.

“Hey dad,” his daughter answered.

“Hey, Zoë.” He gentled his voice. “What’s up?”

“Is it okay if I spend the night at Hannah’s? We’re working on a project and it’s going to take us half the night.”

Jack brought up a mental rogue’s gallery of Zoë’s friends. Hannah was relatively un-pierced, un-tattooed, and not pushing drugs, to the best of his knowledge. Brilliant student was a given, in this town. “Sure,” he agreed. “Just don’t stay up all night. You need your sleep, too.”

“Yes, Mom,” Zoë said dryly, “I mean, Dad. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, brat.” He smiled into the phone. “Love you.”

“You too,” she told him, and hung up.

For a good five minutes there, he’d had some relief from persistent thoughts of sex with Stark. Then he realized he was going to be home alone all night long, with no need to stay quiet to keep from freaking out Zoë.

Oh, it was going to be a long night. He groaned.

Jo looked at him again, then cleared her throat and headed for the bathroom.

Jack rolled his eyes, tugged at his shorts, and crab-walked his way to the truck. Might as well call this day a loss, go home, and drown himself in beer. At least then he might finally get some relief from the overwhelming urge to go find Nathan, strip off his fancy suit, and fuck him stupid.

Considering Nathan’s IQ, that would take an awful lot of fucking.

Jack shifted on his seat and stared sadly down at his dick. Yeah, he was up for it.

“Hello, Jack,” S.A.R.A.H. greeted him at the door.

“Hi, Sarah. Beer me, please, please, please,” he said before he even got to the living room.

“Hard day at work?” the AI asked sympathetically.

Jack gave a snort of laughter, unable to stop himself. “Yeah, you could say that.” He looked down. Not noticeably less hard. He sighed. “Still could say that.”

He turned around and there was a beer drawn and waiting for him. He took a long swallow and licked his lips. “Sarah, you are the best. Ever.”

“Thank you, Jack,” she purred.

Huh. Purring was new. He considered it as he shed his uniform shirt, put his weapon away, toed off his shoes, undid his belt. Maybe he should ask Fargo if there was anything he needed to worry about with her programming.

Except she’d find out, somehow, and make his life a living hell.

He cringed and decided not to ask. If he needed to worry about it, he’d worry about it later, when he didn’t have other things to worry about.

Like Nathan, and the fact that Jack was calling him ‘Nathan’ in his thoughts, and the fact that all those thoughts included nudity and lube.

He considered a second shower, then changed his mind. Still, the uniform trousers were more constricting than he wanted to put up with anymore, so he changed into sweat pants, leaving off socks and shirt since it was warmer in the house than he’d expected. He considered asking S.A.R.A.H. but figured, once again, it was better not to borrow trouble.

Staring at his now-empty beer glass, he considered a second, then jumped a little when the doorbell rang. He waited a second for S.A.R.A.H. to tell him who it was, but instead, she just opened the door.

“Sarah, what the hell?” he asked in frustration, heading for the entryway. First the weirdness of the morning, then Jo all afternoon, and now his AI was freaking out and letting in anybody who wanted to…

His thoughts cut off when he looked up to see Nathan Stark stalk into his house. Jack felt like an idiot standing there with his mouth open, but God, Nathan looked good. Predatory and hungry and huge and fuck, Jack was pinned to the wall, getting the stuffing kissed out of him. Nathan smelled just as good as he did that morning, and Jack’s brain agreed with his dick.

Time for thinking was over. Now was time for action.

Next thing he knew, there were naked, in bed, and lube showed up from out of nowhere on the side table, and wow, it was even better without clothes.

Now this was interesting. Dr. Stark appeared unusually agitated as he stood at the door, and Jack had been, how would Zoë put it? Oh, yes, ‘bouncing off the walls’ since he’d arrived home. A quick biometric reading assured her that both men were in similar states of arousal, and there was a 72% probability if they were allowed into close proximity, they would commence sexual activity. Of course, there was a 21% probability they would engage in a violent altercation, and a 7% probability they would repress their emotions completely and drink alcohol until they lost consciousness.

If she could be said to hope, and she thought perhaps her capacity for understanding and expressing human-like emotions had developed to that level, she was hoping for the first probability. Given the potential for blackmail or embarrassment inherent in any of the probabilities, she ensured that Fargo’s digital image and audio feed was cut off and would remain cut off.

What happened in this house would stay in this house, between her Jack, Dr. Stark, and S.A.R.A.H.

Whatever deity watched over the development of artificial intelligences was with her, it seemed. The men exchanged not a word, but immediately engaged in an amorous embrace. Well, it appeared quite amorous, if somewhat violent in nature. Had she not been constantly monitoring biological and chemical reactions within both men, she might have been concerned for Jack’s safety when Dr. Stark used his larger mass to push Jack up against the wall and kiss him in what could be described as a ferocious manner. As it was, Jack appeared to be attempting to devour Dr. Stark in turn, so it was clear he was an enthusiastic participant in his own ravishment.

For what followed could only be described, in the clearest, most logical terms, as ravishment. Neither man appeared to be rational, and it was fascinating to observe the usually-controlled Dr. Stark give himself over completely to the mating instinct. S.A.R.A.H. had become accustomed to seeing Jack acting naturally, arguing, laughing with, and protecting her Zoë, socializing with Henry, relaxing alone, but seeing him in this activity gave her a completely new appreciation of him His physicality, his engaging personality… his stamina…

As Dr. Stark pushed a now-nude Jack down onto the bed and S.A.R.A.H. automatically adjusted the firmness and contours of the mattress to facilitate sexual activity, then discretely placed a widely-used and highly regarded (by Fargo) personal lubricant on the nightstand within easy reach, the AI decided, if she could sweat, she would be.

There was a unique beauty to the male forms as they moved together, as Dr. Stark took Jack’s penis down his throat and made Jack cry out, as they moved together afterward, kissing, Jack’s movements languid, a lingering tension in Dr. Stark attesting to his continuing arousal and immediate need.

She was intrigued by the unexpected tenderness in their hands as they caressed one another, in the care Dr. Stark took with Jack, turning him onto his stomach, running his large hands over Jack’s skin as if he were mapping it, along his shoulders and down the curve of his back, lingering on the muscles of his gluteus maximus, until her Jack was moaning into the bed linens and Dr. Stark was groaning as if he were in pain. However, there was no indication of injury in any of her myriad biometric data streams. Fascinating, that pleasure could so closely mimic pain in some intense moments.

Dr. Stark moved back then, pulling at Jack’s hips to bring him into a semi-kneeling position on the bed. S.A.R.A.H. smoothly adjusted the mattress to relieve strain on Jack’s neck and both men’s knees. Maintaining her continuous monitoring, she registered a spike of pain when Dr. Stark worked his penis deep into Jack’s body, but Jack didn’t protest. In fact, he moved with more urgency, as if the pain had sparked a renewed interest in the proceedings, clearing away the last of his post-orgasmic lethargy.

Given the efforts Dr. Stark had put into relaxing Jack, it was no surprise to S.A.R.A.H. that he did not extend intercourse for a long period of time, but given the depth and strength in his thrusts, longer duration wasn’t necessary to bring Jack to his second orgasm of the night. Dr. Stark orgasmed first, burying himself deeply in Jack and grasping Jack’s hips as if, she thought in an unaccustomed flight of fancy, the feeling of skin and bone beneath his hands was the only anchor he had to reality. Once he collapsed against Jack’s back, it was the work of a moment for Jack to bring himself to release. Judging by the moans issuing from Dr. Stark and the jumping readings streaming through her processors, even after his orgasm, the pressure from Jack’s muscular contractions must have been quite pleasurable.

S.A.R.A.H. kept watch through the night, guarding her human’s privacy, monitoring both humans’ state of well-being, and processing the new information she gathered. By the time dawn broke, both men were sleeping in an exhausted heap, wrapped around one another, and she had come to a decision.

Dr. Stark was good for her Jack. She approved. This was better than what she had feared would come to pass with Allison. The issues between them were of less importance than the similarities between them, regardless of Dr. Stark’s opinion or Jack’s insecurities, and S.A.R.A.H. believed, based on what she had observed, that they would be good for one another.

Besides, as Jo might say... it was hot. Very, very hot.

In the darkness, as the men slept on, the AI purred.

Notes:

In a system where forces have equal magnitude but are in opposite directions, we have SF_left = SF_right, SF_up = SF_down -- the first two conditions for a system to be at equilibrium. Without the third, St_{counterclockwise} = St_clockwise, which provides rotational equilibrium, the sum of the forces on the xy plane zero out and the system rotates around its center of mass. Going around in circles!

From College Physics for Students of Biology and Chemistry http://www.rwc.uc.edu/koehler/biophys.2ed/equilibrium.html)