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More cut-rate fic
so. Liz and Jara demanded Lab Porn. Some of these lines are Liz's.
Edit: Stupid damn notepad.
Her lab was too small.
Sam had never noticed this before. At least, not when Jack was there (or maybe she had, but now she was allowed to notice -- sort of). He was pacing in the middle of the room, back and forth, steps slow and even. It was driving her insane.
Because her lab was too small.
"Sir."
He stopped. "Hrm?"
The breath caught in her throat as he looked at her, and she wondered, suddenly, when this had stopped being about an accident and turned into being about them and what it meant (and she should stop reading stupid damn novels. Janet was a bad influence).
"Jack."
God, that sounded strange.
He froze, eyes suddenly wide like a deer caught in headlights. "Carter."
"We're, we're -- not. Not married. So..."
"So. Yeah."
But the one mistake was already tail-spinning its way through their careers, and suddenly Sam could see what would happen. Jack would stay a Colonel. She'd stay a Major. The SGC would consider them too valuable to lose, but they'd end up somewhere that wasn't the front lines (well, she would). They'd probably make her run the science division, claim it was a great honor. She'd never go out in the field, never taste the adrenaline she craved as she dodged and wove and fought for her right to survive. Jack would probably be shunted to training cadets.
It would be considered an honor. A way to 'fix' all of the problems.
How fast would they come to hate each other?
"Carter?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. And she wanted the pound, suddenly. If she was going to have her career tarnished and her life's ambitions in shreds, at least she was going to get more than "yes, sir." "no, sir." "five rounds rapid, sir."
Decision suddenly made, she moved to close the door to her lab and then went to her desk. She'd built the scrambler back when they had first locked up their lives in that stupid room. And all this time it had been gathering dust, waiting to be used. Quietly, she set it on the cabinet by the surveillance camera. She stepped away and went back to fiddling randomly with the equipment on the countertop.
"Carter?"
He was a hell of a lot closer than she'd been prepared for.
Swallowing, she shot a glance to the side and saw that the small lights were blinking on the scrambler.
"What's going on?" His breath stirred the small hairs at the nape of her neck.
Fighting the urge to lean back and see how long it took for his lips to connect with the skin there Sam closed her eyes. "Jack?"
Not very long at all.
Damn.
His lips were smirking. "You built a scrambler?" The words were slightly muffled given that his lips were occupied with carefully nipping at the skin of her neck.
"It seemed like a good idea three years ago."
The lips paused and he drew back. "You mean I could have been doing this for three years?" A hand drifted down to slip under her BDU top.
She swallowed again. "No." Yes. Yes, of course he could have. Because the hand toying with the small patch of skin at her waist felt quite nice. "There--"
"Wasn't a reason." He stilled.
She stepped back into him. "No."
The fingers flexed, tightened against her skin as if he could hold her there with one hand.
Her mouth went dry at the enormity of what she was about to do. But she was past caring anymore. "Jack?"
"Hrm?"
"Kiss me."
-
"So...this is my wife's lab, eh?"
He was smirking against her neck, and she was almost cold. She really needed to put more blankets on the damned cot. Although it had been interesting to discover just *how* flexible Jack O'Neill was. "I'm not...oh, god."
"Can I carry you over the threshold?"
"Isn't that kind of pointless, now?" She pointed out without bothering to move.
"Can I help you...uh...simulate stuff, or...god."
The last was in a breathed-out exclamation because she'd shifted, pushing back against him. "You were saying, flyboy?"
"...do we get a honeymoon?" His breathing wasn't back to normal, but he was trying.
"No."
"Will you be O'Neill or Carter-O'Neill now?"
"Jack."
"And I think we'll need to buy a new house together as yours is too girly and mine is way too boyish for you."
"Jaaack..."
"And the first thing we do this weekend? Is Fishing."
"The first thing."
"Yeah, since we've gotten this bit over now."
She shifted again and then reached back to smack his ass. The sound was very satisfying.
"Hey!"
"This bit?" She turned her head and shifted so she could mock-glare. "Sex in my lab, and it's just 'this bit'?"
He smirked at her, "Depends." His hands reached out for her and his fingers trailed over her skin. "How much longer do you think we have before someone comes searching for us?"
"I--" One very talented set of fingers walked their way up her ribs. "--God. Don't care."
"Hrm. This cot is a bit small."
"Is it?" Completely distracted by the fact that Jack O'Neill was playing with her skin, Sam missed the gleam in his eyes. Or maybe she was just more interested in making him touch her. "Ja-ack."
He rolled, pinning her to the edge of the cot. Unfortunately, the thing was never designed for the combined weight of two adults to sit on one side. With an inevitableness, it sagged sideways and then dumped them onto the cold cement floor.
Correction.
Dumped her onto it, with Jack on top, his weight pressing her already heated skin into the icy-cold stone.
"GAH!"
"Mmmf." He buried his head in her shoulder and chuckled. "Cold?"
She smacked whatever available portion of his anatomy she could reach. "Jack! It's cold!"
"So I gather."
Wriggling under him, she discovered that he had a good grip on her, and wasn't (apparently) going to let her off the floor any time in the forseeable future. "Let me up, damnit." Her back wasn't too happy, either.
"Samantha Carter, reduced to swearing at her commanding officer?" He made a clicking noise. "For shame."
"Jack. Let me up and -- maybe -- I won't injure you." She was aware that he was her commanding officer. She was equally aware that at this point she really didn't give a crap. Besides. They were married. Sort of.
"Hrm. What kind of odds are you giving?"
"Better odds than you naked against a platoon of jaffa."
"They'd be too distracted."
"I won't." She promised, finally getting one leg free and sliding it up his body.
"Hrm." She smirked, "On the other hand..."
"That's NOT a hand."
"Nope." He hissed as her leg slid along him. "Carter--"
"Let me up, Jack."
Of course, the floor was larger than the cot, but it was cold. However, something in her tone apparently convinced him because he shifted and then moved away from her. He scrambled to his feet and scampered to hide behind her desk.
She snickered. "Jack?" The move from the floor to standing took a little time, and then she began slinking towards him.
"Yes?" He sidled away from her.
"Aw. Are you scared of me?"
"Nope."
"Pity." She continued stalking him, ignoring the cold of the floor. He'd made her cold he could damn well warm her up again (and where the heck had all her fine principles gone? Probably lost somewhere between the time he got his hand up her shirt and the moment when he first slid into her). He continued to move away so that she couldn't get to him.
She paused and eyed the problem.
Her desk was between them. The top was covered with papers and pens and the occasional disc. She eyed the contents for a moment, then grabbed her desk chair.
"Carter?"
He sounded confused. She looked up from stacking things on the chair. "Move the monitor onto the floor."
"Huh?"
"Thank god the keyboard moves under the desk."
"...Carter?"
"What, Jack?" She smirked, "Did you think I'd have sex with you all over my unfinished reports?"
"...guh." He replied before grabbing the monitor and setting it unceremoniously on the floor. Then he grabbed discs and paper and dumped it haphazardly off the side of the desk.
"Hey! I need to keep that in order!"
"We can organize later."
She glared at him. "I--"
"Desk. Now."
Oh. A glance at him, taking him fully in, made her lips twist into a smirk. "A little eager, are we?"
"I've waited six years. Move, woman."
"Only six?" She smirked, but complied, climbing onto the slightly chilly desktop and kneeling in front of him. "This work?"
"For the moment." His hand tangled in her hair and he tugged her against him. Their lips met as his free hand slid around the curve of her waist and pulled her against his lower half. She moaned softly, feeling the hardness of him against the tops of her thighs.
It wasn't until later, when he was underneath her (the height was wrong and they both agreed his knees would die), her legs straddling him, that she remembered she was supposed to be irritated about being dumped on the floor. She paused in her movements, one hand on his chest to brace herself. "Jack?"
He thrust upwards.
It was almost a good enough distraction, tearing a soft moan from between her lips. But her back was still cold. "The floor was really cold."
Another thrust, this one causing her head to tilt back. Damn, he was good at this.
"Really, really--" She broke off and joined him, rhythm pounding through her veins. His hands dug into her waist, pulling at her. She dropped forward and kissed him, gasping for breath that her body desperately wanted even at the same time as she felt too full of it.
His hand slid between them, fingers sliding across where they were joined and she knew she was damp and slick and nearly lost to sensation.
And then his tongue joined the effort, sliding in and out with the same careful movements his fingers and cock were following. And it was exactly too much. She forgot the cold of the floor, forgot the concrete that covered thirteen more floors until it hit basalt bedrock, forgot the regulations and the fact that the man inside of her was her commanding officer.
"Jack." The name came out on a combination of strangled breath and sobbing relief.
Peripherally, she was aware that he was thrusting faster, harder, growling with his own release.
But all she could feel was slick sweat and cold air and him.
"Well."
"Hrm."
"I can't believe I made us wait six years."
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, then he winced. "Think I pulled a muscle."
"Serves you right," she mumbled.
"Hammond could call us soon."
"If he's smart, the General is going to forget about us for another 12 hours."
"12? I'm not Superman, Carter."
She snickered. "Is the desk cold and hard, Jack?"
"Yes."
"Good." She settled herself a little more comfortably, and sighed.
-
Edit: Stupid damn notepad.
Her lab was too small.
Sam had never noticed this before. At least, not when Jack was there (or maybe she had, but now she was allowed to notice -- sort of). He was pacing in the middle of the room, back and forth, steps slow and even. It was driving her insane.
Because her lab was too small.
"Sir."
He stopped. "Hrm?"
The breath caught in her throat as he looked at her, and she wondered, suddenly, when this had stopped being about an accident and turned into being about them and what it meant (and she should stop reading stupid damn novels. Janet was a bad influence).
"Jack."
God, that sounded strange.
He froze, eyes suddenly wide like a deer caught in headlights. "Carter."
"We're, we're -- not. Not married. So..."
"So. Yeah."
But the one mistake was already tail-spinning its way through their careers, and suddenly Sam could see what would happen. Jack would stay a Colonel. She'd stay a Major. The SGC would consider them too valuable to lose, but they'd end up somewhere that wasn't the front lines (well, she would). They'd probably make her run the science division, claim it was a great honor. She'd never go out in the field, never taste the adrenaline she craved as she dodged and wove and fought for her right to survive. Jack would probably be shunted to training cadets.
It would be considered an honor. A way to 'fix' all of the problems.
How fast would they come to hate each other?
"Carter?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. And she wanted the pound, suddenly. If she was going to have her career tarnished and her life's ambitions in shreds, at least she was going to get more than "yes, sir." "no, sir." "five rounds rapid, sir."
Decision suddenly made, she moved to close the door to her lab and then went to her desk. She'd built the scrambler back when they had first locked up their lives in that stupid room. And all this time it had been gathering dust, waiting to be used. Quietly, she set it on the cabinet by the surveillance camera. She stepped away and went back to fiddling randomly with the equipment on the countertop.
"Carter?"
He was a hell of a lot closer than she'd been prepared for.
Swallowing, she shot a glance to the side and saw that the small lights were blinking on the scrambler.
"What's going on?" His breath stirred the small hairs at the nape of her neck.
Fighting the urge to lean back and see how long it took for his lips to connect with the skin there Sam closed her eyes. "Jack?"
Not very long at all.
Damn.
His lips were smirking. "You built a scrambler?" The words were slightly muffled given that his lips were occupied with carefully nipping at the skin of her neck.
"It seemed like a good idea three years ago."
The lips paused and he drew back. "You mean I could have been doing this for three years?" A hand drifted down to slip under her BDU top.
She swallowed again. "No." Yes. Yes, of course he could have. Because the hand toying with the small patch of skin at her waist felt quite nice. "There--"
"Wasn't a reason." He stilled.
She stepped back into him. "No."
The fingers flexed, tightened against her skin as if he could hold her there with one hand.
Her mouth went dry at the enormity of what she was about to do. But she was past caring anymore. "Jack?"
"Hrm?"
"Kiss me."
-
"So...this is my wife's lab, eh?"
He was smirking against her neck, and she was almost cold. She really needed to put more blankets on the damned cot. Although it had been interesting to discover just *how* flexible Jack O'Neill was. "I'm not...oh, god."
"Can I carry you over the threshold?"
"Isn't that kind of pointless, now?" She pointed out without bothering to move.
"Can I help you...uh...simulate stuff, or...god."
The last was in a breathed-out exclamation because she'd shifted, pushing back against him. "You were saying, flyboy?"
"...do we get a honeymoon?" His breathing wasn't back to normal, but he was trying.
"No."
"Will you be O'Neill or Carter-O'Neill now?"
"Jack."
"And I think we'll need to buy a new house together as yours is too girly and mine is way too boyish for you."
"Jaaack..."
"And the first thing we do this weekend? Is Fishing."
"The first thing."
"Yeah, since we've gotten this bit over now."
She shifted again and then reached back to smack his ass. The sound was very satisfying.
"Hey!"
"This bit?" She turned her head and shifted so she could mock-glare. "Sex in my lab, and it's just 'this bit'?"
He smirked at her, "Depends." His hands reached out for her and his fingers trailed over her skin. "How much longer do you think we have before someone comes searching for us?"
"I--" One very talented set of fingers walked their way up her ribs. "--God. Don't care."
"Hrm. This cot is a bit small."
"Is it?" Completely distracted by the fact that Jack O'Neill was playing with her skin, Sam missed the gleam in his eyes. Or maybe she was just more interested in making him touch her. "Ja-ack."
He rolled, pinning her to the edge of the cot. Unfortunately, the thing was never designed for the combined weight of two adults to sit on one side. With an inevitableness, it sagged sideways and then dumped them onto the cold cement floor.
Correction.
Dumped her onto it, with Jack on top, his weight pressing her already heated skin into the icy-cold stone.
"GAH!"
"Mmmf." He buried his head in her shoulder and chuckled. "Cold?"
She smacked whatever available portion of his anatomy she could reach. "Jack! It's cold!"
"So I gather."
Wriggling under him, she discovered that he had a good grip on her, and wasn't (apparently) going to let her off the floor any time in the forseeable future. "Let me up, damnit." Her back wasn't too happy, either.
"Samantha Carter, reduced to swearing at her commanding officer?" He made a clicking noise. "For shame."
"Jack. Let me up and -- maybe -- I won't injure you." She was aware that he was her commanding officer. She was equally aware that at this point she really didn't give a crap. Besides. They were married. Sort of.
"Hrm. What kind of odds are you giving?"
"Better odds than you naked against a platoon of jaffa."
"They'd be too distracted."
"I won't." She promised, finally getting one leg free and sliding it up his body.
"Hrm." She smirked, "On the other hand..."
"That's NOT a hand."
"Nope." He hissed as her leg slid along him. "Carter--"
"Let me up, Jack."
Of course, the floor was larger than the cot, but it was cold. However, something in her tone apparently convinced him because he shifted and then moved away from her. He scrambled to his feet and scampered to hide behind her desk.
She snickered. "Jack?" The move from the floor to standing took a little time, and then she began slinking towards him.
"Yes?" He sidled away from her.
"Aw. Are you scared of me?"
"Nope."
"Pity." She continued stalking him, ignoring the cold of the floor. He'd made her cold he could damn well warm her up again (and where the heck had all her fine principles gone? Probably lost somewhere between the time he got his hand up her shirt and the moment when he first slid into her). He continued to move away so that she couldn't get to him.
She paused and eyed the problem.
Her desk was between them. The top was covered with papers and pens and the occasional disc. She eyed the contents for a moment, then grabbed her desk chair.
"Carter?"
He sounded confused. She looked up from stacking things on the chair. "Move the monitor onto the floor."
"Huh?"
"Thank god the keyboard moves under the desk."
"...Carter?"
"What, Jack?" She smirked, "Did you think I'd have sex with you all over my unfinished reports?"
"...guh." He replied before grabbing the monitor and setting it unceremoniously on the floor. Then he grabbed discs and paper and dumped it haphazardly off the side of the desk.
"Hey! I need to keep that in order!"
"We can organize later."
She glared at him. "I--"
"Desk. Now."
Oh. A glance at him, taking him fully in, made her lips twist into a smirk. "A little eager, are we?"
"I've waited six years. Move, woman."
"Only six?" She smirked, but complied, climbing onto the slightly chilly desktop and kneeling in front of him. "This work?"
"For the moment." His hand tangled in her hair and he tugged her against him. Their lips met as his free hand slid around the curve of her waist and pulled her against his lower half. She moaned softly, feeling the hardness of him against the tops of her thighs.
It wasn't until later, when he was underneath her (the height was wrong and they both agreed his knees would die), her legs straddling him, that she remembered she was supposed to be irritated about being dumped on the floor. She paused in her movements, one hand on his chest to brace herself. "Jack?"
He thrust upwards.
It was almost a good enough distraction, tearing a soft moan from between her lips. But her back was still cold. "The floor was really cold."
Another thrust, this one causing her head to tilt back. Damn, he was good at this.
"Really, really--" She broke off and joined him, rhythm pounding through her veins. His hands dug into her waist, pulling at her. She dropped forward and kissed him, gasping for breath that her body desperately wanted even at the same time as she felt too full of it.
His hand slid between them, fingers sliding across where they were joined and she knew she was damp and slick and nearly lost to sensation.
And then his tongue joined the effort, sliding in and out with the same careful movements his fingers and cock were following. And it was exactly too much. She forgot the cold of the floor, forgot the concrete that covered thirteen more floors until it hit basalt bedrock, forgot the regulations and the fact that the man inside of her was her commanding officer.
"Jack." The name came out on a combination of strangled breath and sobbing relief.
Peripherally, she was aware that he was thrusting faster, harder, growling with his own release.
But all she could feel was slick sweat and cold air and him.
"Well."
"Hrm."
"I can't believe I made us wait six years."
A chuckle rumbled in his chest, then he winced. "Think I pulled a muscle."
"Serves you right," she mumbled.
"Hammond could call us soon."
"If he's smart, the General is going to forget about us for another 12 hours."
"12? I'm not Superman, Carter."
She snickered. "Is the desk cold and hard, Jack?"
"Yes."
"Good." She settled herself a little more comfortably, and sighed.
-
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Hee hee! I think they need to make up for those 6 years. *snickers*
She snickered. "Is the desk cold and hard, Jack?"
"Yes."
"Good." She settled herself a little more comfortably, and sighed.
*loves evil!Sam* Now I'm waiting for her to get revenge for him calling her "woman". =oP
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*heh!*
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Sigh of relief? *eyebrow*