(no subject)
Here is a Sam/Jack fic.
I wrote it for lyssie.
It is something of a PWP.
I'm not sure when it's set, either. Probably sometime in Season 4 or 5.
I don't have a name for it.
I think I shall rate it R.
Now I shall go and shower.
Colonel Jack O'Neill had worked himself into something of a sulk about one thing and another and was almost tempted not to answer the door when the doorbell rang. But after a long pull at the beer he held in his hand, he decided that the miniscule possibility that there were hundreds of naked women outside desperate for his attention outweighed his desire to be grumpy and reclusive.
When he opened the door, he was mildly disappointed that there was only one woman, fully clothed. The upside was that she was Major Samantha Carter. She was also something closed to completely soaked from the rain; the way her thin shirt clung to her upper body was high on the list of reasons why Jack found the existence of umbrellas personally offensive.
"Hi," Jack said. He swung the door open a little wider to allow her entry.
"Hi," Sam said. She bit her lower lip, apparently nervous. "Can I come in?"
"Okay," Jack drawled, twitching his eyebrows at her to let her know she was being redundant as he took a step back from the door.
She flushed faintly as she stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her.
"Can I ... get you anything?" Jack said. "Beer? Soda? Towel?"
Sam grinned a little self-consciously. "Towel would be great," she said.
Jack headed down the hall, puzzling over the fact that she hadn't just called him if they wanted him down at the base, or in fact if she'd had anything personal to talk about -- why the hell was she here? It wasn't as though she could have just been in the neighborhood and decided to drop by.
When he returned with a large fluffy beach towel, Sam was sitting on his couch with her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her ankles crossed, her spine ram-rod straight. He draped the towel over his shoulders and stepped back, watching her with his head-cocked. He finished off the last of the beer in his hand. "Beer? Soda?" he said pleasantly, figuring she'd get to whatever the hell it was in her own time.
"Soda?" asked Sam.
"I don't have Diet," Jack said, grasping at a thread of memory usually best left unprodded at.
"Beer's fine, then," said Sam.
He trudged off to the fridge, still confused. Thus far there had been no torrentous avalanche of words in his direction, full of vocabulary that his brain had to work excessively hard to understand. She seemed edgy and also unhappy. He wondered if she was sick or something.
He got two beers from the fridge, removed the caps, and went back to the living room, sliding hers into her hands and taking the seat across from the couch.
She looked at it as though it were an object completely foreign to her understanding for a moment.
"Generally people drink it," Jack said, swigging from his own bottle so that the genius scientist perched on his couch could learn by example.
Sam sipped at it.
Jack waited. She sipped again, avoiding eye contact by scanning the room which she had seen several times before.
Jack waited longer.
Finally he said, "Okay."
She looked at him. "Uh, right," she said, clearing her throat with embarrassment. "There's something I have to talk to you about."
He settled back in his chair and gestured with his beer hand for her to continue.
"All right." Sam looked uncomfortable, took a deep breath, and plunged right in. "I think we should have sex, sir."
The beer sloshed as he sat straight up in his chair. "Eh?"
"I uh --" Sam had gone bright red. "Look -- Colonel. I have developed something of an inappropriate attraction to you."
"Uh-huh," Jack said slowly. More beer seemed like a dynamite idea at this point. He put thought to action as he stared at Sam.
"Well, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same about me, what with ... things ..." Sam said.
"Uh ... huh," Jack allowed, since there was really no point denying it, what with one thing and another that regularly made him quite sulky of an evening.
"And, um, I thought that for the good of the team, to prevent our mutual attraction from, uh, interfering in our work, we should ... you know ..." She trailed off into silence and took a very long - and rather impressive - pull at her beer, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand when she was done.
"Indulge ... ourselves," Jack said very slowly.
"Yes, sir." She seemed awash with relief at simply having gotten that out there.
The incongruity hit him like a ton of bricks. "Carter?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Not that this isn't a personal fantasy of mine," Jack said, inwardly allowing that it was somewhat bizarre around the details, "but d'you think you could call me 'Jack'? If we're going to be fucking and all?"
She was bright red and tensing up again. "Um -- all right. Jack."
"Peachy," said Jack, grinning at her discomfort. He took another swig from his bottle of beer and set it down on the coffee table, getting to his feet and hooking his thumbs into belt-loops of his jeans.
Sam looked up at him and grinned awkwardly as she followed suit, sliding to her feet.
"Bedroom's in th -- mmph!"
He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence. Sam was on him like a rabid hyena on a zebra carcass, her mouth ravenous on his, her hands it seemed everywhere at once. He stumbled back into the chair, and she was on top of him, a handful of still-damp sex-starved Sam wriggling in his lap.
This was more like the fantasy. He wondered, idly, if he was dreaming. Then she bit him and he yelped. That ... you know ... didn't seem like the dreams he usually had. Dream Sam was generally a little less ferocious and her nails scrabbled less in her frantic attempts to tear off his clothes.
"Carter! Mmph -- dammit -- Carter!"
"What?" Sam demanded crossly, one of her hands frozen in its position beneath his shirt at stomach-level, the other pressing him firmly against the chair by shoving against his shoulder.
"Flattering as hell, but d'you think you can *contain* yourself long enough to get to the, oh, I don't know, bed?" He grinned at her to take the edge off the sarcasm.
"Uh -- I'm ... sorry, Colonel. I mean, Jack." She got off his lap, the awkwardness sneaking back into her manner again.
"It's not -- " Jack winced as she started closing herself off again. "I'd like ... Christ! Woman, can I at least take my pants off?"
She glanced over her shoulder at him, a smirk curving her lips. "I guess that'd be allowable, Jack," she said.
He stood up and took off his pants, feeling somewhat unromantic but pretty damned aroused. The Sam in his imagination was something less of a nymphomaniac, and that was pretty damned amazing of real Sam.
"I thought you wanted to go to the bedroom," Sam said, looking at him in amused bewilderment.
"Uh ..." Jack flailed, at a loss for words. "You didn't seem to like that idea."
Sam flushed. "Oh."
He peeled the damp shirt off her and fumbled with the clasps of her brassiere for a moment before she batted him off and reached up to do it herself.
"Sorry," Jack said.
Sam laughed, startled. "Don't worry about it, s ... Jack," she said. She tossed the bra aside with a careless flick of her wrist. She pulled a condom out of her front pocket and removed the packaging with reasonably deft fingers. Jack was about to ask for it, but then she matter-of-factly dropped to her knees, grasped his cock round the base, and proceeded to put the condom on him with her mouth.
"Holy shit, Carter!" he yelped, flailing back with one arm reach the wall against which he could brace. "Warn a guy!"
Sam sat back and looked up at him, a strange quirk to both mouth and eyebrows. "You weren't warned enough?" she asked, voice a-tremble with amusement.
He twitched his hips at her. "All right, I'm warned," he said. "Come on."
Sam laughed. "I don't get a turn?"
"You want me to put the condom on you next?"
She slapped his ass. "Very funny, Jack." She got to her feet and pulled down her pants to reveal her tasteful white panties, which he swiftly assisted in divesting her of while she was pulling off his shirt.
"Well, all out of clothed here," said Sam, kicking off her sandals.
"I'm not," Jack said. He braced with one leg against the wall and removed one sock. Then he removed the other. Then he held them up. "Got any ideas?"
"I've never tied anyone up with socks before," Sam said thoughtfully.
Jack looked around. "We lack bedposts."
"The socks also aren't very suited to that sort of thing," Sam observed. She removed them from his hands and tossed them over her shoulder. Then she shoved him up against the wall and forced her tongue into his mouth, moaning softly through the kiss as he groped her ass with one hand.
"Carter --"
"Call me Sam, Jack."
"What? Oh. Sam." He grinned sheepishly at her.
"All right, what?" Sam said.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jack said. It felt very weird to be saying that with a gorgeous naked blonde pressing him up against the wall with her body, but he felt that one of them *had* to say it, and it didn't seem likely to be her.
Her only answer was to tilt her head slightly and take hold of his dick. She started rubbing the head with her thumb.
"Well -- lay on -- Ma .. aha -- oh, Christ --"
Sam grinned and gave his right buttock a playful squeeze. "Macduff, Jack," she purred. "Lay on *Macduff*."
"I'd rather lay on you, really --"
"Shut up, Jack," Sam said, and kissed further attempts at mirth away with a fierce application of her mouth.
Then they got on the with the mind-blowing sex.
They even eventually got to the bedroom.
But not to the bed.
But then eventually to the bed. It just took some doing. But Jack liked to fall asleep afterwards, and the bed made that more convenient than elsewhere.
I wrote it for lyssie.
It is something of a PWP.
I'm not sure when it's set, either. Probably sometime in Season 4 or 5.
I don't have a name for it.
I think I shall rate it R.
Now I shall go and shower.
Colonel Jack O'Neill had worked himself into something of a sulk about one thing and another and was almost tempted not to answer the door when the doorbell rang. But after a long pull at the beer he held in his hand, he decided that the miniscule possibility that there were hundreds of naked women outside desperate for his attention outweighed his desire to be grumpy and reclusive.
When he opened the door, he was mildly disappointed that there was only one woman, fully clothed. The upside was that she was Major Samantha Carter. She was also something closed to completely soaked from the rain; the way her thin shirt clung to her upper body was high on the list of reasons why Jack found the existence of umbrellas personally offensive.
"Hi," Jack said. He swung the door open a little wider to allow her entry.
"Hi," Sam said. She bit her lower lip, apparently nervous. "Can I come in?"
"Okay," Jack drawled, twitching his eyebrows at her to let her know she was being redundant as he took a step back from the door.
She flushed faintly as she stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind her.
"Can I ... get you anything?" Jack said. "Beer? Soda? Towel?"
Sam grinned a little self-consciously. "Towel would be great," she said.
Jack headed down the hall, puzzling over the fact that she hadn't just called him if they wanted him down at the base, or in fact if she'd had anything personal to talk about -- why the hell was she here? It wasn't as though she could have just been in the neighborhood and decided to drop by.
When he returned with a large fluffy beach towel, Sam was sitting on his couch with her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her ankles crossed, her spine ram-rod straight. He draped the towel over his shoulders and stepped back, watching her with his head-cocked. He finished off the last of the beer in his hand. "Beer? Soda?" he said pleasantly, figuring she'd get to whatever the hell it was in her own time.
"Soda?" asked Sam.
"I don't have Diet," Jack said, grasping at a thread of memory usually best left unprodded at.
"Beer's fine, then," said Sam.
He trudged off to the fridge, still confused. Thus far there had been no torrentous avalanche of words in his direction, full of vocabulary that his brain had to work excessively hard to understand. She seemed edgy and also unhappy. He wondered if she was sick or something.
He got two beers from the fridge, removed the caps, and went back to the living room, sliding hers into her hands and taking the seat across from the couch.
She looked at it as though it were an object completely foreign to her understanding for a moment.
"Generally people drink it," Jack said, swigging from his own bottle so that the genius scientist perched on his couch could learn by example.
Sam sipped at it.
Jack waited. She sipped again, avoiding eye contact by scanning the room which she had seen several times before.
Jack waited longer.
Finally he said, "Okay."
She looked at him. "Uh, right," she said, clearing her throat with embarrassment. "There's something I have to talk to you about."
He settled back in his chair and gestured with his beer hand for her to continue.
"All right." Sam looked uncomfortable, took a deep breath, and plunged right in. "I think we should have sex, sir."
The beer sloshed as he sat straight up in his chair. "Eh?"
"I uh --" Sam had gone bright red. "Look -- Colonel. I have developed something of an inappropriate attraction to you."
"Uh-huh," Jack said slowly. More beer seemed like a dynamite idea at this point. He put thought to action as he stared at Sam.
"Well, and I'm pretty sure you feel the same about me, what with ... things ..." Sam said.
"Uh ... huh," Jack allowed, since there was really no point denying it, what with one thing and another that regularly made him quite sulky of an evening.
"And, um, I thought that for the good of the team, to prevent our mutual attraction from, uh, interfering in our work, we should ... you know ..." She trailed off into silence and took a very long - and rather impressive - pull at her beer, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand when she was done.
"Indulge ... ourselves," Jack said very slowly.
"Yes, sir." She seemed awash with relief at simply having gotten that out there.
The incongruity hit him like a ton of bricks. "Carter?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Not that this isn't a personal fantasy of mine," Jack said, inwardly allowing that it was somewhat bizarre around the details, "but d'you think you could call me 'Jack'? If we're going to be fucking and all?"
She was bright red and tensing up again. "Um -- all right. Jack."
"Peachy," said Jack, grinning at her discomfort. He took another swig from his bottle of beer and set it down on the coffee table, getting to his feet and hooking his thumbs into belt-loops of his jeans.
Sam looked up at him and grinned awkwardly as she followed suit, sliding to her feet.
"Bedroom's in th -- mmph!"
He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence. Sam was on him like a rabid hyena on a zebra carcass, her mouth ravenous on his, her hands it seemed everywhere at once. He stumbled back into the chair, and she was on top of him, a handful of still-damp sex-starved Sam wriggling in his lap.
This was more like the fantasy. He wondered, idly, if he was dreaming. Then she bit him and he yelped. That ... you know ... didn't seem like the dreams he usually had. Dream Sam was generally a little less ferocious and her nails scrabbled less in her frantic attempts to tear off his clothes.
"Carter! Mmph -- dammit -- Carter!"
"What?" Sam demanded crossly, one of her hands frozen in its position beneath his shirt at stomach-level, the other pressing him firmly against the chair by shoving against his shoulder.
"Flattering as hell, but d'you think you can *contain* yourself long enough to get to the, oh, I don't know, bed?" He grinned at her to take the edge off the sarcasm.
"Uh -- I'm ... sorry, Colonel. I mean, Jack." She got off his lap, the awkwardness sneaking back into her manner again.
"It's not -- " Jack winced as she started closing herself off again. "I'd like ... Christ! Woman, can I at least take my pants off?"
She glanced over her shoulder at him, a smirk curving her lips. "I guess that'd be allowable, Jack," she said.
He stood up and took off his pants, feeling somewhat unromantic but pretty damned aroused. The Sam in his imagination was something less of a nymphomaniac, and that was pretty damned amazing of real Sam.
"I thought you wanted to go to the bedroom," Sam said, looking at him in amused bewilderment.
"Uh ..." Jack flailed, at a loss for words. "You didn't seem to like that idea."
Sam flushed. "Oh."
He peeled the damp shirt off her and fumbled with the clasps of her brassiere for a moment before she batted him off and reached up to do it herself.
"Sorry," Jack said.
Sam laughed, startled. "Don't worry about it, s ... Jack," she said. She tossed the bra aside with a careless flick of her wrist. She pulled a condom out of her front pocket and removed the packaging with reasonably deft fingers. Jack was about to ask for it, but then she matter-of-factly dropped to her knees, grasped his cock round the base, and proceeded to put the condom on him with her mouth.
"Holy shit, Carter!" he yelped, flailing back with one arm reach the wall against which he could brace. "Warn a guy!"
Sam sat back and looked up at him, a strange quirk to both mouth and eyebrows. "You weren't warned enough?" she asked, voice a-tremble with amusement.
He twitched his hips at her. "All right, I'm warned," he said. "Come on."
Sam laughed. "I don't get a turn?"
"You want me to put the condom on you next?"
She slapped his ass. "Very funny, Jack." She got to her feet and pulled down her pants to reveal her tasteful white panties, which he swiftly assisted in divesting her of while she was pulling off his shirt.
"Well, all out of clothed here," said Sam, kicking off her sandals.
"I'm not," Jack said. He braced with one leg against the wall and removed one sock. Then he removed the other. Then he held them up. "Got any ideas?"
"I've never tied anyone up with socks before," Sam said thoughtfully.
Jack looked around. "We lack bedposts."
"The socks also aren't very suited to that sort of thing," Sam observed. She removed them from his hands and tossed them over her shoulder. Then she shoved him up against the wall and forced her tongue into his mouth, moaning softly through the kiss as he groped her ass with one hand.
"Carter --"
"Call me Sam, Jack."
"What? Oh. Sam." He grinned sheepishly at her.
"All right, what?" Sam said.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jack said. It felt very weird to be saying that with a gorgeous naked blonde pressing him up against the wall with her body, but he felt that one of them *had* to say it, and it didn't seem likely to be her.
Her only answer was to tilt her head slightly and take hold of his dick. She started rubbing the head with her thumb.
"Well -- lay on -- Ma .. aha -- oh, Christ --"
Sam grinned and gave his right buttock a playful squeeze. "Macduff, Jack," she purred. "Lay on *Macduff*."
"I'd rather lay on you, really --"
"Shut up, Jack," Sam said, and kissed further attempts at mirth away with a fierce application of her mouth.
Then they got on the with the mind-blowing sex.
They even eventually got to the bedroom.
But not to the bed.
But then eventually to the bed. It just took some doing. But Jack liked to fall asleep afterwards, and the bed made that more convenient than elsewhere.