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Entry tags:
Sam/Jack smut
And a conversation that proves I can't spell laundrymat...
Jack O'Neill had been eyeing for at least twenty minutes before Sam Carter gave up on her work and glanced up from her laptop. "What?"
"Let's have sex."
Well. That was bald. "Jack, I'm busy."
"No you're not," he contradicted.
She sighed. "Jack, I have reports due."
"Yup. Let's have sex anyway. Then I can help you with your reports."
Jack's idea of help was to show her how to bullet-point her summaries. "Uh-huh." She narrowed her eyes. "What brought this on?"
"Nothin'." Sensing he was breaking her defenses down, he stepped into the room. "You don't even have to leave the study. We could have sex right here. On your desk."
"On my desk?" She eyed the piece of furniture dubiously. "I don't--"
"Carter."
When the hell had he moved so he was leaning over her, his hand sliding oh so slowly down the back of her robe? "Jack?"
"You're over-thinking it." his other hand turned her chair.
"I ammph." He always had known how to use surprise to his advantage, she thought as his hands stroked her skin and his lips moved along hers. Naturally, her hand was already in his hair, her body announcing that it was perfectly happy with this plan, even if her brain didn't think it was rational.
She should have gotten dressed instead of lazing around in nothing but her robe. Of course, it meant that it took less time for Jack to strip her and drag her upright and position her.
Then his fingers slid into her, and she wasn't thinking of anything except the fact that he was very good at that.
"Jack." Her voice was strained, her back arched.
"Hrm?" He was smirking, his lips sliding along her skin while his hands and fingers did fabulous things.
She was already damp and ready for him, her body having long ago decided it liked Jack O'Neill and everything about him. "Stop playing."
"But I like playing." For emphasis, he slid another finger into her.
"Gah."
He stopped and pulled away. "Lean over the desk."
"That an order, sir?" Her voice was taunting, but he'd interrupted her work. Really.
"Yes." His hand smacked her ass. "Move, soldier."
"Oooo." Wriggling her anatomy at him, Sam bent forwards over the desk, turning her head so she could watch him strip his pants off. "Is that for me?"
"Yes." Unceremoniously, he grabbed her hips, positioned himself and thrust.
The sensation was almost indescribable. She pushed back against him, shifting her weight in an attempt to get him deeper. "Jack."
"Hrm?" He bent over, laying his front on her back, his lips on her shoulder. "Somethin' you wanted, Carter?"
"Move."
His hands on her hips, holding her, he did. Very slowly.
In.
Out.
"Jack." Her voice was breathless, her nerves taut and demanding more. "Fuck me."
"Like this?"
She found herself pushed flat on the desk, her legs spread farther, his hips slamming into hers. "Yes," she managed before maneuvering a hand down and rubbing her clitoris.
"Carter, I don't --"
Her back arched, her muscles clenched, and anything else he might have said was lost as the world revolved around her, the weight of him on her back her only anchor before she began to notice things like how the edge of the desk dug into her wrist and thighs.
"God, woman, are you trying to kill me?"
She looked back over her shoulder at him. "Maybe." Gathering herself, she pushed back against him again, "You still there, Jack?"
"Yes." His hands were on her hips again, "Don't move, Carter."
"Why not?" She wriggled her ass, feeling his hands clench tighter.
"Evil woman." He moved again, thrusting in.
Quickly she moved to brace herself, then drew up one leg, feeling the angle shift. He groaned. She tightened her inner muscles around him.
one last shuddering thrust, and he was gone over the edge.
Analytically, she watched him, wondering if there were a way to catalogue the way every muscle moved. Predict which spasm would occur when.
But that really wasn't her field.
He slumped against her with a sigh. "Damn, Carter."
"You going to complain, Jack?" She raised an eyebrow as he disengaged and dropped into her chair. "You're the one who wanted to have sex on my desk."
"Figured we should christen it," he panted.
"Ah." She stood and winced at the bruises already dotting the tops of her thighs. "Ow."
"Sorry, Carter."
Ignoring him, she glanced around, "Where'd my robe go?"
"Sittin' on it."
"Ah." She eyed him. "You gonna get up anytime soon?"
"Nope. Like you naked."
"Ah."
"Besides, my knees aren't what they used to be."
"Again, I point out that *you* chose the desk."
"You're the one who wiggled your ass so sweetly."
"Point."
He sighed, "Don't suppose you'd go make some coffee..."
"Again," She raised her eyebrows, "You drank it all?"
"Maybe." He squirmed for a moment, then eyed her, "Y'know, Carter, you never have to get dressed again."
"That would cause an interesting stir at the base."
"Yep."
=-=-=-
"I can't believe you broke the dryer."
"I can't believe you couldn't *fix* the dryer."
"It's not a naquadah reactor, Jack."
"Oh, like that's ever stopped you before."
"Your faith in me is astounding."
"Aw, c'mon, Carter, you can't tell me that you're scared of the laundromat."
"Bite me."
"Tell me where."
"In public, Jack?"
"Hey, whatever floats your boat."
"And I'm not afraid, I'm just... not used to laundromats."
"Eh. You get used to 'em when you're running special ops in the middle of nowhere."
"...you do laundry on special ops?"
"You'd be surprised how many dirty shirts you need to clean."
"Ah."
"About that biting, Carter..."
"Hrm?"
"C'mere."
"Jack! This isn't -- dignified."
"Never been kissed against a washer before, Carter?"
"No."
"Time to remedy that."
"Any excuse, huh?"
"Shut up and kiss me, Carter."
"Yes, sir."
"There, see?"
"In public, no less."
"Carter. Don't. Move."
"Like this?"
"Gah. Evil. Pure. Evil."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I should probably check the stuff in the other washer."
"No! You're not going anywhere, Carter."
"I'm not?"
"Wipe that smirk off your face."
"No."
"Carter..."
"Oh, there went the bell. Back in a moment."
"Carter!"
"Here. Hold this magazine in front of you."
"Carter, I'm SO putting you on report."
"For what, Jack?"
"Sex harrasment. 'Dear General Jumper, the sexy hot Colonel you have working under me won't give me satisfaction'."
"Uh-huh. Wanna try that again, flyboy?"
"Later."
"Hope that's a promise."
"You won't be able to walk straight."
"Sounds fun."
Jack O'Neill had been eyeing for at least twenty minutes before Sam Carter gave up on her work and glanced up from her laptop. "What?"
"Let's have sex."
Well. That was bald. "Jack, I'm busy."
"No you're not," he contradicted.
She sighed. "Jack, I have reports due."
"Yup. Let's have sex anyway. Then I can help you with your reports."
Jack's idea of help was to show her how to bullet-point her summaries. "Uh-huh." She narrowed her eyes. "What brought this on?"
"Nothin'." Sensing he was breaking her defenses down, he stepped into the room. "You don't even have to leave the study. We could have sex right here. On your desk."
"On my desk?" She eyed the piece of furniture dubiously. "I don't--"
"Carter."
When the hell had he moved so he was leaning over her, his hand sliding oh so slowly down the back of her robe? "Jack?"
"You're over-thinking it." his other hand turned her chair.
"I ammph." He always had known how to use surprise to his advantage, she thought as his hands stroked her skin and his lips moved along hers. Naturally, her hand was already in his hair, her body announcing that it was perfectly happy with this plan, even if her brain didn't think it was rational.
She should have gotten dressed instead of lazing around in nothing but her robe. Of course, it meant that it took less time for Jack to strip her and drag her upright and position her.
Then his fingers slid into her, and she wasn't thinking of anything except the fact that he was very good at that.
"Jack." Her voice was strained, her back arched.
"Hrm?" He was smirking, his lips sliding along her skin while his hands and fingers did fabulous things.
She was already damp and ready for him, her body having long ago decided it liked Jack O'Neill and everything about him. "Stop playing."
"But I like playing." For emphasis, he slid another finger into her.
"Gah."
He stopped and pulled away. "Lean over the desk."
"That an order, sir?" Her voice was taunting, but he'd interrupted her work. Really.
"Yes." His hand smacked her ass. "Move, soldier."
"Oooo." Wriggling her anatomy at him, Sam bent forwards over the desk, turning her head so she could watch him strip his pants off. "Is that for me?"
"Yes." Unceremoniously, he grabbed her hips, positioned himself and thrust.
The sensation was almost indescribable. She pushed back against him, shifting her weight in an attempt to get him deeper. "Jack."
"Hrm?" He bent over, laying his front on her back, his lips on her shoulder. "Somethin' you wanted, Carter?"
"Move."
His hands on her hips, holding her, he did. Very slowly.
In.
Out.
"Jack." Her voice was breathless, her nerves taut and demanding more. "Fuck me."
"Like this?"
She found herself pushed flat on the desk, her legs spread farther, his hips slamming into hers. "Yes," she managed before maneuvering a hand down and rubbing her clitoris.
"Carter, I don't --"
Her back arched, her muscles clenched, and anything else he might have said was lost as the world revolved around her, the weight of him on her back her only anchor before she began to notice things like how the edge of the desk dug into her wrist and thighs.
"God, woman, are you trying to kill me?"
She looked back over her shoulder at him. "Maybe." Gathering herself, she pushed back against him again, "You still there, Jack?"
"Yes." His hands were on her hips again, "Don't move, Carter."
"Why not?" She wriggled her ass, feeling his hands clench tighter.
"Evil woman." He moved again, thrusting in.
Quickly she moved to brace herself, then drew up one leg, feeling the angle shift. He groaned. She tightened her inner muscles around him.
one last shuddering thrust, and he was gone over the edge.
Analytically, she watched him, wondering if there were a way to catalogue the way every muscle moved. Predict which spasm would occur when.
But that really wasn't her field.
He slumped against her with a sigh. "Damn, Carter."
"You going to complain, Jack?" She raised an eyebrow as he disengaged and dropped into her chair. "You're the one who wanted to have sex on my desk."
"Figured we should christen it," he panted.
"Ah." She stood and winced at the bruises already dotting the tops of her thighs. "Ow."
"Sorry, Carter."
Ignoring him, she glanced around, "Where'd my robe go?"
"Sittin' on it."
"Ah." She eyed him. "You gonna get up anytime soon?"
"Nope. Like you naked."
"Ah."
"Besides, my knees aren't what they used to be."
"Again, I point out that *you* chose the desk."
"You're the one who wiggled your ass so sweetly."
"Point."
He sighed, "Don't suppose you'd go make some coffee..."
"Again," She raised her eyebrows, "You drank it all?"
"Maybe." He squirmed for a moment, then eyed her, "Y'know, Carter, you never have to get dressed again."
"That would cause an interesting stir at the base."
"Yep."
=-=-=-
"I can't believe you broke the dryer."
"I can't believe you couldn't *fix* the dryer."
"It's not a naquadah reactor, Jack."
"Oh, like that's ever stopped you before."
"Your faith in me is astounding."
"Aw, c'mon, Carter, you can't tell me that you're scared of the laundromat."
"Bite me."
"Tell me where."
"In public, Jack?"
"Hey, whatever floats your boat."
"And I'm not afraid, I'm just... not used to laundromats."
"Eh. You get used to 'em when you're running special ops in the middle of nowhere."
"...you do laundry on special ops?"
"You'd be surprised how many dirty shirts you need to clean."
"Ah."
"About that biting, Carter..."
"Hrm?"
"C'mere."
"Jack! This isn't -- dignified."
"Never been kissed against a washer before, Carter?"
"No."
"Time to remedy that."
"Any excuse, huh?"
"Shut up and kiss me, Carter."
"Yes, sir."
"There, see?"
"In public, no less."
"Carter. Don't. Move."
"Like this?"
"Gah. Evil. Pure. Evil."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I should probably check the stuff in the other washer."
"No! You're not going anywhere, Carter."
"I'm not?"
"Wipe that smirk off your face."
"No."
"Carter..."
"Oh, there went the bell. Back in a moment."
"Carter!"
"Here. Hold this magazine in front of you."
"Carter, I'm SO putting you on report."
"For what, Jack?"
"Sex harrasment. 'Dear General Jumper, the sexy hot Colonel you have working under me won't give me satisfaction'."
"Uh-huh. Wanna try that again, flyboy?"
"Later."
"Hope that's a promise."
"You won't be able to walk straight."
"Sounds fun."
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*clings*
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*wags non-existent tail*
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Not a problem, really. We'll deal with it 'cause it's Sam and Jack and we're happy to get it. Thanks. More Nutter Butters?
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*munches*
I hate *sneeze* being sick.
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*pets*
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Romantic AND practical!
*giggles* YAAAAAAAAAAAY! Smut! *knuffels*
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Thanks :)
*pokes them* c'mon, you two...
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Thanks!
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"I can't believe you couldn't *fix* the dryer."
"It's not a naquadah reactor, Jack."
"Oh, like that's ever stopped you before."
BWAHAHAHAHA! I love it when you have them banter.
Also? SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTT! Me like smut. ;)
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Thank you.
*pokes them* More sex!