Not quite Replicarter/Jack, but a moment from later on (if I ever make it there...)
The words are stark and naked, slamming against her with a sly force while the other--her. She's her, but she's not, strides around, arrogant in her nakedness.
"I know what Jack O'Neill tastes like, I know what it feel like to have him buried deep inside. Do you?"
No. No she doesn't. And it frightens the hell out of her that this is happening.
She shifts against the restraints, stops when cold fingers close around her face, tips stroking down her cheekbones.
"I could show you, I could show you how he tastes and feels." A laugh, broken and ugly.
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The words are stark and naked, slamming against her with a sly force while the other--her. She's her, but she's not, strides around, arrogant in her nakedness.
"I know what Jack O'Neill tastes like, I know what it feel like to have him buried deep inside. Do you?"
No. No she doesn't. And it frightens the hell out of her that this is happening.
She shifts against the restraints, stops when cold fingers close around her face, tips stroking down her cheekbones.
"I could show you, I could show you how he tastes and feels." A laugh, broken and ugly.
"Please..."