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Entry tags:
scam: sg-1. Porn
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R/NC17. Sex.
Pair: Sam/Jack
This is a fairly direct sequel to 'Saturday Night and Sunday Morning', which itself was written ages ago. God knows when. I'm too tired to find out. (can't even type right anymore) Any mistakes are my own, and due to exhaustion. Yes, Ryuu, this is why I was slow responding. Although, er, you might recognize vague bits. ps. I know they're not in character, kthnxbai.
After Saturday Night
by ALC Punk!
There was something wrong about the way her bed felt, Captain Sam Carter decided. It was... hard. And there was the distinct sensation of dust tickling her nose, and her right hand hurt.
Oh.
She wondered, as she curled tighter into the blanket around her, if she could get a lot of milage out of the fact that Colonel Jack O'Neill had apparently kicked her out of bed.
"I should get a cat," she informed the underside of her bed. But, then, she wouldn't have Jack in her bed.
Or maybe she would.
Crawling out from under the blanket, she peered over the edge of her bed. Sudden reality crowded into her mind, and she winced.
She had her commanding officer sprawled in her bed, still sleeping off being drunk and having sex with her. His subordinate.
Oh, god.
Last night, this had all seemed like such a good idea. Be lonely, be horny, have sex with Jack O'Neill. In the cold light of mid-morning, it was not so easy. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the mattress, stifling a sigh.
A sound made her jerk her head up, and she discovered that Jack was staring at her. "Sir--"
"You're naked, Carter."
Damn. She yanked the blanket up around herself, flushing. "Yes, sir."
He flung an arm over his head and groaned. "Carter, if we did what I think -- did we?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then stop callin' me 'sir'. Sam."
Carefully avoiding looking at him, she stood, "I'll, um, get out of your way so you can get dressed and go -- sir."
"Go?"
Sam stopped edging towards the door.
He was staring at her, his gaze speculative.
"Well, I assumed, sir, and --"
"Y'know," he studied her, "Did I kick you out of bed, Sam?"
"I'm sure you didn't mean to," she offered.
"C'mere."
Her naked commanding officer was crooking his fingers at her, beckoning her into his bed. Well, her bed. Sam flushed again, "Uh, sir--"
"AH! We covered this. We had sex, you call me Jack."
"Er... Jack. I really don't think..." Her voice trailed off as he slid out of the bed and stood.
"Difficult woman," he muttered, stalking towards her.
"Me?" She was embarrassed to discover that her voice squeaked. It might have had something to do with the rather arrogantly male animal stalking her. Sam backed into the wall and discovered that she had nowhere else to go.
"Sam." He stopped in front of her, eyes studying her face. "We had sex last night."
"Yes." Shifting, Sam tried to slide sideways.
"Ah-ah." A hand was placed to either side of her, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was naked underneath the blanket. "Do you really want me to go?"
She swallowed, her body informing her that if she did it wouldn't speak to her again for YEARS. "No."
"Good." And his mouth closed on hers.
All rational thought fled. Not that there had been much. Her hands stopped holding the blanket up and moved to touch his hair, one raking through it in a way she'd been considering for months. Her nails lightly scraped his scalp, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She sighed, tilting her head slightly as one of his hands delved beneath the blanket and began caressing her skin.
There was no more time for conversation, his hands doing too much to let her even focus enough to ask if this would affect their working relationship.
Within a short amount of time, she was pushing him back towards the bed, determined to have her way with him, because otherwise, she was going to have to resort to her own hands, and she liked his. Possibly better.
Right before they got there, he turned them and shoved, stripping the blanket from her as she flopped backwards, arms and legs akimbo.
He paused to stare at her, laying there, and licked his lips. "Move up."
Obeying the command was second nature, and she found herself leaning against the headboard as he crawled after her, stretching out before her and kissing her thighs as he worked his way up to her center.
She writhed against the feather-light kisses, desperately wanting him somewhere else, with his lips and tongue. The mental image of Jack O'Neill eating her out made her whimper.
Then he was exactly where she needed him, and she moaned. There were a few false starts, and she wondered how much practice he'd had with his tongue. And then he got it right. Oh, god, did he ever get it right. Her hands fisted in the sheet, her back arched, and she wondered hazily if she was seeing colors not normally available to the human eye.
Up and down and around, and she fell off the edge of the world. He didn't stop, merely added a finger, sliding it in and out until she felt the orgasm building again.
Coming down the second time, she pulled at his hair, fingers tangled in the unruly mass. "Hey."
He pulled back and looked up at her, smirking.
"You're good," she informed him. "You're really --" the finger inside of her *moved* and she gasped, "--really good."
"Good to know." He kissed her thigh then backed up.
Sam opened her mouth to warm him that he was too close to the edge, but some tiny spark inside held her silent until he suddenly realized his own danger. Of course, by then it was too late. So her, "Look out!" was a little late.
"Ow."
Sam scrambled to the side, as fast as her orgasm-induced-lethargy would let her. "Jack, are you ok?"
"Ow." He replied, glaring up at her from the floor.
A snicker escaped her.
"Carter."
"You did kick me out of bed, Jack."
His eyebrows went up. "And this is... revenge?"
"Maybe." She shrugged and shifted, suddenly remembering that she was naked and so was he. Her eyes narrowed, "I think you should make it up to me."
His eyes glittered, "Really? I thought I already had."
Sam sat back on her heels and eyed him. "So? I want more."
"More?" He dragged himself to his feet. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me."
"Probably." Reaching out she wrapped a hand around him, relishing the groan that escaped his lips. She lightly ran her fingers over him, then moved back from the edge.
Without needing the prompt, he clambered onto the bed, eyeing her.
"On your back, flyboy."
Holding her gaze, he slowly rolled flat. She chuckled and leaned over to kiss his abdomen, and then became distracted from her original purpose.
A hand on her head made her pull back, "Not so fast."
"Sam," he growled.
Getting the condom, she decided to try something. Last time, she'd used a banana. Using suction, she held the unwrapped latex in her mouth (suddenly glad she'd been given a box of cherry-flavored condoms as a gag gift for her last birthday) and carefully bent over.
A hard penis may have a similar shape to a banana, but the similarities end quickly. He was hard, but he wasn't unmoving. He wiggled as her lips closed on him. Larger than a banana, too, and her jaw protested the slow downward stroke that followed. She pulled back, eyeing the half-unrolled latex, then began using lips and tongue to pull it down further until he was completely covered.
By then he was sweating, "Sam."
"So impatient," she teased, moving to straddle him.
His hands grabbed her hips and he thrust up, missing. "Damnit."
Bracing herself with one hand, she reached between them, fumbled, then got him situated right. "Oh --" her voice cut off on a strangled gasp as he surged upwards and inwards, burying himself inside of her. She flopped forward, panting slightly.
"Move, Carter."
"Yes, sir."
He growled.
She chuckled, but began riding him oh-so-slowly, feeling him twitch beneath her. His hands dragged at her hips, pulling her up faster, and she complied with his unspoken request, moving quicker.
One of his hands drifted up to fondle her breasts, and she moaned her appreciation.
It was different than before. Which felt like such an obvious thought, but she needed to analyze it as she did everything. It was a new angle, and she was in control of their movements. Pulsing around him, then pulling back slowly, then dropping down quickly, their bodies brushing. After twelve hours, she was very happy with the feel of Jack O'Neill inside her body. And he was certainly happy about it.
She lost track of time, feeling nothing but him. Hands, cock, legs and mouth. Suddenly, he stiffened, "God, Sam, I--"
Pushing against him, she twisted her hips and leaned down, sucking on one of his nipples.
His cry echoed in her room as his hands tightened painfully on her.
Slowly, he relaxed, the last spasm making her shift.
Not enough. Not quite enough. But, damn, it had still felt good.
"You didn't?"
"No." She kissed him. "Wasn't expect--" Her brain froze as three fingers replaced his dick, and her back arched.
God. This was familiar. Last night, straddling him on the floor, hand braced against his chest and he still knew exactly where to place his thumb. She came with a cry that shocked her and collapsed against him, riding the aftershocks as he continued to stroke her.
"Now you have." He sounded smug.
"Oh, yeah." She managed.
"Y'know, Carter," Moving her slightly, he settled her more comfortably, "This doesn't have to affect our working relationship."
Sam went cold.
Reality calling. Feebly, she wondered if there were a door-to-door service that dropped reality on you like a ton of bricks when you least expect it. "Um, Sir, I --"
"Captain, being formal when I just finger-fucked you seems a little silly."
She stiffened. "Sir..."
"Sam." His hand touched her head, "It's all right. This doesn't have to go beyond this room, beyond today. I'm not going to suddenly decide that you took advantage of me."
Her body began to relax. "I was... I wasn't thinking last night." It came out as a whisper.
"Hey." His hand tugged, and she looked up to face him. "It was just sex, Carter. It happens. It gets dealt with and we move on. Got it?"
She swallowed. "Okay."
"Carter -- Sam. Listen, this isn't going to be a problem."
"Okay." She nodded. She could do this. "I can do this."
"We can do this." He said firmly. Then he made a face. "But after I take a shower and find some coffee."
"Oh! Right."
She moved off of him, wincing as muscles pulled in her legs. Maybe next time there would be stretching before the sex. Jack was out of her bed almost as fast a gunshot, but she wasn't going to dwell on that as she admired his ass while he gathered his clothing.
The shower started about the time she dragged herself from the bed and began stripping the sheets, wondering if she could get away with washing and drying them without having to put other sheets on the bed. Probably, if she did it fast enough. With that thought in mind, she pulled on her terrycloth robe and picked up the bundle.
Five minutes later, she started the coffee and found herself staring out the small kitchen window.
It was disturbing to realize that she'd been lonely enough to drag her commanding officer home and have sex with him. And it hadn't been the most fantastic sex, but it had been... nice. Although the morning sex had been better. Not that she thought it should be a recurring thing. In fact, it would probably be bad for her career if she continued sleeping with him.
Very bad.
With a start, she realized the shower was finished and moved to the hall, watching as he came out, hair spiky with water. For a moment they regarded each other.
"I made coffee." It was a weak offer.
He shook his head, "I should go, Carter." A slight smile touched his lips. "Though, anytime you want me over for coffee..."
"Thank you, sir." Back to sir. And she knew, suddenly, that she'd need to be desperate to ask him over again. For now, it was always going to have to be sir. She touched his shoulder and adjusted his shirt collar. "Have a good afternoon, sir."
"You, too." And he kissed her gently.
She watched him walk out into the early afternoon sunlight, and wondered if she was making a mistake.
-f-
Pair: Sam/Jack
This is a fairly direct sequel to 'Saturday Night and Sunday Morning', which itself was written ages ago. God knows when. I'm too tired to find out. (can't even type right anymore) Any mistakes are my own, and due to exhaustion. Yes, Ryuu, this is why I was slow responding. Although, er, you might recognize vague bits. ps. I know they're not in character, kthnxbai.
After Saturday Night
by ALC Punk!
There was something wrong about the way her bed felt, Captain Sam Carter decided. It was... hard. And there was the distinct sensation of dust tickling her nose, and her right hand hurt.
Oh.
She wondered, as she curled tighter into the blanket around her, if she could get a lot of milage out of the fact that Colonel Jack O'Neill had apparently kicked her out of bed.
"I should get a cat," she informed the underside of her bed. But, then, she wouldn't have Jack in her bed.
Or maybe she would.
Crawling out from under the blanket, she peered over the edge of her bed. Sudden reality crowded into her mind, and she winced.
She had her commanding officer sprawled in her bed, still sleeping off being drunk and having sex with her. His subordinate.
Oh, god.
Last night, this had all seemed like such a good idea. Be lonely, be horny, have sex with Jack O'Neill. In the cold light of mid-morning, it was not so easy. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the mattress, stifling a sigh.
A sound made her jerk her head up, and she discovered that Jack was staring at her. "Sir--"
"You're naked, Carter."
Damn. She yanked the blanket up around herself, flushing. "Yes, sir."
He flung an arm over his head and groaned. "Carter, if we did what I think -- did we?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then stop callin' me 'sir'. Sam."
Carefully avoiding looking at him, she stood, "I'll, um, get out of your way so you can get dressed and go -- sir."
"Go?"
Sam stopped edging towards the door.
He was staring at her, his gaze speculative.
"Well, I assumed, sir, and --"
"Y'know," he studied her, "Did I kick you out of bed, Sam?"
"I'm sure you didn't mean to," she offered.
"C'mere."
Her naked commanding officer was crooking his fingers at her, beckoning her into his bed. Well, her bed. Sam flushed again, "Uh, sir--"
"AH! We covered this. We had sex, you call me Jack."
"Er... Jack. I really don't think..." Her voice trailed off as he slid out of the bed and stood.
"Difficult woman," he muttered, stalking towards her.
"Me?" She was embarrassed to discover that her voice squeaked. It might have had something to do with the rather arrogantly male animal stalking her. Sam backed into the wall and discovered that she had nowhere else to go.
"Sam." He stopped in front of her, eyes studying her face. "We had sex last night."
"Yes." Shifting, Sam tried to slide sideways.
"Ah-ah." A hand was placed to either side of her, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was naked underneath the blanket. "Do you really want me to go?"
She swallowed, her body informing her that if she did it wouldn't speak to her again for YEARS. "No."
"Good." And his mouth closed on hers.
All rational thought fled. Not that there had been much. Her hands stopped holding the blanket up and moved to touch his hair, one raking through it in a way she'd been considering for months. Her nails lightly scraped his scalp, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She sighed, tilting her head slightly as one of his hands delved beneath the blanket and began caressing her skin.
There was no more time for conversation, his hands doing too much to let her even focus enough to ask if this would affect their working relationship.
Within a short amount of time, she was pushing him back towards the bed, determined to have her way with him, because otherwise, she was going to have to resort to her own hands, and she liked his. Possibly better.
Right before they got there, he turned them and shoved, stripping the blanket from her as she flopped backwards, arms and legs akimbo.
He paused to stare at her, laying there, and licked his lips. "Move up."
Obeying the command was second nature, and she found herself leaning against the headboard as he crawled after her, stretching out before her and kissing her thighs as he worked his way up to her center.
She writhed against the feather-light kisses, desperately wanting him somewhere else, with his lips and tongue. The mental image of Jack O'Neill eating her out made her whimper.
Then he was exactly where she needed him, and she moaned. There were a few false starts, and she wondered how much practice he'd had with his tongue. And then he got it right. Oh, god, did he ever get it right. Her hands fisted in the sheet, her back arched, and she wondered hazily if she was seeing colors not normally available to the human eye.
Up and down and around, and she fell off the edge of the world. He didn't stop, merely added a finger, sliding it in and out until she felt the orgasm building again.
Coming down the second time, she pulled at his hair, fingers tangled in the unruly mass. "Hey."
He pulled back and looked up at her, smirking.
"You're good," she informed him. "You're really --" the finger inside of her *moved* and she gasped, "--really good."
"Good to know." He kissed her thigh then backed up.
Sam opened her mouth to warm him that he was too close to the edge, but some tiny spark inside held her silent until he suddenly realized his own danger. Of course, by then it was too late. So her, "Look out!" was a little late.
"Ow."
Sam scrambled to the side, as fast as her orgasm-induced-lethargy would let her. "Jack, are you ok?"
"Ow." He replied, glaring up at her from the floor.
A snicker escaped her.
"Carter."
"You did kick me out of bed, Jack."
His eyebrows went up. "And this is... revenge?"
"Maybe." She shrugged and shifted, suddenly remembering that she was naked and so was he. Her eyes narrowed, "I think you should make it up to me."
His eyes glittered, "Really? I thought I already had."
Sam sat back on her heels and eyed him. "So? I want more."
"More?" He dragged himself to his feet. "Woman, you're going to be the death of me."
"Probably." Reaching out she wrapped a hand around him, relishing the groan that escaped his lips. She lightly ran her fingers over him, then moved back from the edge.
Without needing the prompt, he clambered onto the bed, eyeing her.
"On your back, flyboy."
Holding her gaze, he slowly rolled flat. She chuckled and leaned over to kiss his abdomen, and then became distracted from her original purpose.
A hand on her head made her pull back, "Not so fast."
"Sam," he growled.
Getting the condom, she decided to try something. Last time, she'd used a banana. Using suction, she held the unwrapped latex in her mouth (suddenly glad she'd been given a box of cherry-flavored condoms as a gag gift for her last birthday) and carefully bent over.
A hard penis may have a similar shape to a banana, but the similarities end quickly. He was hard, but he wasn't unmoving. He wiggled as her lips closed on him. Larger than a banana, too, and her jaw protested the slow downward stroke that followed. She pulled back, eyeing the half-unrolled latex, then began using lips and tongue to pull it down further until he was completely covered.
By then he was sweating, "Sam."
"So impatient," she teased, moving to straddle him.
His hands grabbed her hips and he thrust up, missing. "Damnit."
Bracing herself with one hand, she reached between them, fumbled, then got him situated right. "Oh --" her voice cut off on a strangled gasp as he surged upwards and inwards, burying himself inside of her. She flopped forward, panting slightly.
"Move, Carter."
"Yes, sir."
He growled.
She chuckled, but began riding him oh-so-slowly, feeling him twitch beneath her. His hands dragged at her hips, pulling her up faster, and she complied with his unspoken request, moving quicker.
One of his hands drifted up to fondle her breasts, and she moaned her appreciation.
It was different than before. Which felt like such an obvious thought, but she needed to analyze it as she did everything. It was a new angle, and she was in control of their movements. Pulsing around him, then pulling back slowly, then dropping down quickly, their bodies brushing. After twelve hours, she was very happy with the feel of Jack O'Neill inside her body. And he was certainly happy about it.
She lost track of time, feeling nothing but him. Hands, cock, legs and mouth. Suddenly, he stiffened, "God, Sam, I--"
Pushing against him, she twisted her hips and leaned down, sucking on one of his nipples.
His cry echoed in her room as his hands tightened painfully on her.
Slowly, he relaxed, the last spasm making her shift.
Not enough. Not quite enough. But, damn, it had still felt good.
"You didn't?"
"No." She kissed him. "Wasn't expect--" Her brain froze as three fingers replaced his dick, and her back arched.
God. This was familiar. Last night, straddling him on the floor, hand braced against his chest and he still knew exactly where to place his thumb. She came with a cry that shocked her and collapsed against him, riding the aftershocks as he continued to stroke her.
"Now you have." He sounded smug.
"Oh, yeah." She managed.
"Y'know, Carter," Moving her slightly, he settled her more comfortably, "This doesn't have to affect our working relationship."
Sam went cold.
Reality calling. Feebly, she wondered if there were a door-to-door service that dropped reality on you like a ton of bricks when you least expect it. "Um, Sir, I --"
"Captain, being formal when I just finger-fucked you seems a little silly."
She stiffened. "Sir..."
"Sam." His hand touched her head, "It's all right. This doesn't have to go beyond this room, beyond today. I'm not going to suddenly decide that you took advantage of me."
Her body began to relax. "I was... I wasn't thinking last night." It came out as a whisper.
"Hey." His hand tugged, and she looked up to face him. "It was just sex, Carter. It happens. It gets dealt with and we move on. Got it?"
She swallowed. "Okay."
"Carter -- Sam. Listen, this isn't going to be a problem."
"Okay." She nodded. She could do this. "I can do this."
"We can do this." He said firmly. Then he made a face. "But after I take a shower and find some coffee."
"Oh! Right."
She moved off of him, wincing as muscles pulled in her legs. Maybe next time there would be stretching before the sex. Jack was out of her bed almost as fast a gunshot, but she wasn't going to dwell on that as she admired his ass while he gathered his clothing.
The shower started about the time she dragged herself from the bed and began stripping the sheets, wondering if she could get away with washing and drying them without having to put other sheets on the bed. Probably, if she did it fast enough. With that thought in mind, she pulled on her terrycloth robe and picked up the bundle.
Five minutes later, she started the coffee and found herself staring out the small kitchen window.
It was disturbing to realize that she'd been lonely enough to drag her commanding officer home and have sex with him. And it hadn't been the most fantastic sex, but it had been... nice. Although the morning sex had been better. Not that she thought it should be a recurring thing. In fact, it would probably be bad for her career if she continued sleeping with him.
Very bad.
With a start, she realized the shower was finished and moved to the hall, watching as he came out, hair spiky with water. For a moment they regarded each other.
"I made coffee." It was a weak offer.
He shook his head, "I should go, Carter." A slight smile touched his lips. "Though, anytime you want me over for coffee..."
"Thank you, sir." Back to sir. And she knew, suddenly, that she'd need to be desperate to ask him over again. For now, it was always going to have to be sir. She touched his shoulder and adjusted his shirt collar. "Have a good afternoon, sir."
"You, too." And he kissed her gently.
She watched him walk out into the early afternoon sunlight, and wondered if she was making a mistake.
-f-
no subject
And all angsty in my head right now. Arg. Hrm.
no subject
Awwwww, poor babies. Give them some chocolate!