Jack looked at his watch impatiently. Crap. It was already 21:00. Didn't these people know he had a hot wife to get home to? Okay, so yeah, they didn't, but still. He'd tuned out of the meeting when all of the relevant stuff had been discussed. You know, over two hours ago. He sighed and looked at his watch again. He barely heard more than snippets. "Goa'uld… blah blah blah… Wraith… blah blah blah… Ori… yada yada etc." His mind wandered in and out, frequently making the journey back to last night.
Oh yeah, he smiled what he was certain was a smug grin, reining it in before one of the others caught a glimpse of it and asked what he was smiling about: after last night, he could have died a happy man. He was married to Sam, and she was the woman of his dreams. That piece of paper just made the whole thing that much sweeter. He'd been more than happy to do it simply at City Hall because, to him, it made their vows more personal; maybe a little more real. Their private steak-dinner-reception had gotten him so hot and bothered that he'd nearly taken her in the middle of the clean up. Come to think of it, he should have used that dishtowel to tie her up so she wouldn't have had time to suggest the bedroom. That would've been hot. Well, there'd be more times like that. In fact, he wondered if he could finagle it tonight. If he ever got out of this meeting. He looked at his watch again. 21:01? What the hell?
Jack drifted back to his memories as someone started droning on about a new weapon they'd MacGyvered together out of an Asgard weapon and Ancient power source. Whatever. Not like there was an immediate use for it anyhow, though he might consider using it if this meeting didn't end soon. He couldn't believe he'd been here at the Pentagon for 14 hours on the day after his wedding. It wasn't like there was an imminent threat to the galaxy right then. Most of these folks had people to get home to, didn't they? He scanned the room, noting that at least 7 of the 10 people present had a significant other at home, their wedding rings suddenly glaring at him accusingly. Couldn't they think of something they'd rather do there than here?
He sure could! New weapons be damned—he wanted to bolt out the door at the mere memory of the sounds Sam had made last night as he'd flipped them and pinned her to the mattress again and again. Sam was probably the most generous lover he'd ever had. She took as much pleasure out of giving as she took out of getting, he was sure. At times she took control to the point that he was sure he'd come alone, but then the way she fell apart in his arms would tell him otherwise. It wasn't that he didn't take his fair share in her pleasure, but there had been something about last night… it had been more than a little mind-blowing to have her at his erotic mercy time and again. Something about the way she reacted made him want to be the sole giver of pleasure. He'd felt like a young man of 40, he chuckled to himself, drawing a funny look from his neighbor, at which he slammed down his patented 'General O'Neill Mask.'
Of course, that mask could hardly keep the fantasies at bay. Last night was just the beginning: he had all sorts of plans for her when he got home tonight. If he ever got home, that is. 21:05, not looking good. His mind kept returning to the kitchen. That could have been something. But she was probably right about the knees, even if it smarted to admit it. Yeah, he wasn't his old self anymore, for sure, but he was 58 for crying out loud. He was pretty damned proud that an old guy like him could still score with a hot chick like her. But when his early morning meeting had been cancelled, he'd decided to hit the gym. He didn't know if he'd ever have a six-pack again, but he could aim for at least a four-pack, right? He knew Sam didn't care, but he kinda did.
What he'd like to do to her tonight when he got home kept him motivated in the weight room. Sam's rack kept flying through his mind's eye. Now that was an amazing pair of breasts. He kept remembering the first time he'd really noticed them. It had also been the first time they'd ever kissed. Yeah, she'd been infected with some alien nano-bug-things, but it had been hot. Given the standard issue BDUs they wore on a daily basis at the SGC, he'd never really thought about her boobs before then, but that little tank top she'd been wearing when she kissed him had haunted his fantasies for years. Maybe now that they were married he'd actually tell her about it. He wondered if she still had that particular top. He'd have to check her drawer when he got home. That wasn't an incident they'd ever really talked about. In fact, neither one of them had ever mentioned it again after they were cured. It had been too early in their working relationship, long before real feelings of friendship and trust and, later, love had developed between them. Yeah, he'd bring it up tonight. He'd like to play that one out to the end.
Jack forced himself to smother yet another smile. People were going to begin to wonder if he had a screw loose. He never grinned in meetings. He hated being stuck behind a desk and he made sure everyone knew it: that was part of his charm. Anyone would grin in his place, though, right? He was married to Sam. Well, he'd been practically married to her for ages now; but practically wasn't the real deal. He knew it, even if she didn't. He'd been really, really nervous when he'd given her the ring on her birthday. Not the worries most guys had, the same ones he'd had when he'd proposed to Sarah. Would she like the ring? Was it big enough? Most guys knew what the answer would be ahead of time, or they'd never take the risk, but he'd honestly had no clue if Sam would say yes. She'd never even hinted that she wanted marriage, and they'd never discussed it. He and Sarah had talked about marriage and family for three years before he popped the question. He'd never been so unsure of anything in his life when he'd asked Sam.
The shocked expression on her face when she'd opened the neatly gift-wrapped little box had nearly had him snatching it back. He'd never given her jewelry before and this was a pretty important piece of bling. At first, he'd looked everywhere but at her. His hands. He hadn't known what to do with them, and looking at them just made him fidget more. Her fingers holding that little box: they had tightened until her nails blanched white. He'd thought the box was going to pop out of her hands, so he took his own fidgety hands and wrapped them around hers. He hadn't said anything at first; he'd just looked at their hands together before raising his eyes to hers and smiling. He'd seen a fleeting look of fear behind her eyes before it was replaced with uncertainty, which probably mirrored his own. "Sam." It had been all he could say. His heart had felt like it was in his throat. "Are you sure you really want this?" she'd asked quietly. "More sure than anything in my whole life," he'd replied honestly. "Yes. Okay, then," had been her reply. So Sam-like. He'd squeezed her hands and she'd smiled. Then they'd married simply and quietly. It really was such a needed change from the drama that had ruled their lives for so long.
He had her for another three months before she'd be off on that damned ship for another seemingly endless tour across the galaxy. She had been making noises about retiring from the military and his mind wasn't too far behind. They'd both given everything for country and galaxy. He was pretty sure that he was no longer necessary for his job. There were younger men who had been closer to the real action more recently, though the President seemed to think that Jack's years fighting the Goa'uld hand-to-fist made him… unique. As for Sam's job? There may very well not be anyone who could do it as well as she did. Hell, how many ships' Captains could single-handedly repair his or her own ship if it failed, making it even better than before? She'd gone from nerdy AF Captain to full-bird Colonel with an eye to a Generalship thanks to her role as, essentially, Earth's Ambassador as Commander of the Hammond. That skinny, brash girl who had joined his team with a huge chip on her shoulder so many years ago had indeed become a skilled warrior-diplomat who had been the key to the saving of more than one galaxy. His chest swelled with pride. And she was all his. He grinned again. Stop it. 21:35. This meeting had to be over soon, didn't it?
Hmm. When he got home, he was going to cook an omelet. She liked his beer omelets. Maybe he could cook enough beer in it to make her a little tipsy? Yeah, but she'd probably just plague him about how that much beer overpowered the eggs and besides the alcohol cooked off. Yup, they'd had that conversation before. But this was his fantasy, and in his fantasy, she would be a little peeved that he couldn't get out of the office before, uh, 21:41 on the day after their wedding. He'd feed her bites of beer-y egg off his plate and she would slowly relax. He'd pull her astride him, and they'd make out right there in the kitchen. Hmm. Yeah, he'd grab the dishtowel that just happened to be lying on the counter directly behind him, and tie her hands behind her back and she'd scold him with her eyes, but that tieback would give him total access to the world's, no the galaxy's, greatest rack, which he would explore at his leisure with his hands and mouth until she was squirming and making those noises he loved so much. Then, he might untie her, or not, and she'd sink to the floor between his knees. Mmm hmm. That never got old… He must have lost control of The Mask, because someone cleared his throat.
"General?" A squeaky male voice asked.
He turned his head to the officer in question. "Major?"
"Sir, uh, this plan meets with your approval?"
He looked at the strategy drawn on the white board. "Hell no. They'd be blasted out of existence in three seconds flat. Whatever gave you the idea I'd approve such an idiotic training scenario?"
"You were smiling, Sir," said the female voice next to him.
"Well, General Cartwright, I wasn't smiling in praise of stupid stunts, and this meeting lost all relevance about three hours ago." He stood. "So, if you will all excuse me, I'm going home to my wife. I suggest you all consider doing something similar. Except for you, Major. I want a usable training scenario on my desk by 08:00 tomorrow. Dismissed!" He turned and walked out the door leaving what he was sure was a roomful of dumbfounded faces behind him.
He looked at his watch as he ducked into the town car that was to bring him home. Shit. It was already 21:53. He flipped open his cell phone and hit one on the speed dial.
"Hey," a groggy voice greeted him.
"Hey," he intoned back. "I'm on my way. Sorry it's so late. Want me to bring home dinner?"
"No. I already ordered. Chinese keeping warm in the oven."
"You're not going to burn the house down are you?"
He could practically feel her glare at him through the phone. "Keep that up, and there'll be no supper for you."
He liked when her voice took on that husky tone. "Yes, Ma'am." He smiled. How could she sound so hot? What that did to his libido so wasn't fair! "What have you been doing? You sound tired."
"I figured a way to make the hot water heater more efficient using a gadget I picked up in Pegasus last trip out, then took the longest shower of my life to test it. I'm more relaxed than tired."
"Well, don't get too relaxed without me."
She chuckled. "I wouldn't dare. See you soon."
"See you soon," he replied before snapping the phone shut.
Jack threw his keys on the hall table after locking the front door behind him, and started walking towards the back of the house. "Honey, I'm home!" he joked.
"In here." He heard Sam call from the living room.
What greeted him there knocked his breath clear from his body. She was lying on the couch wearing a dark grey tank top, black cotton panties, her dog tags, and nothing else. She had a glass of wine in one hand. Wine! And what could only be described as a self-satisfied grin on her face. Jack's face quickly changed to match hers. Oh, wow. Apparently they didn't need to talk about this, after all. Hell, yeah. Life was good.