Title: On Top

Fandom: My own deluded fluffy SG-1

Category: Fluff. Absolutely no substance at all, and quite a bit OOC, to boot.

Summary: Oh, there is none. Seriously. Just lots of kissing and some cuddling.


There wasn't much else for it; their hands were tied, it was dim and cold in their cellar, and they were still a little euphoric from not quite dying when they should have.

They snuggled together, feeling ridiculous because with their hands behind their backs and the thick layers of fabric covering their bodies, it was nearly impossible to get close. On the other hand, it was cold, so they kept trying.

Sam hooked a knee behind Jack's leg, but when she tried to use her leverage, her torso skidded away. She stifled a giggle as Jack said, "Carter! Quit moving!"

"Sorry, sir." There was still too much laughter in her tone, although as he shuffled back over so their bodies were flush against each other, she stopped laughing. They stayed that way, almost but not quite touching, breathing in and out in shallow breaths.

Jack smirked, said, "I have an idea." He nudged at Sam, and really only succeeded in moving her further away for a couple of seconds until the fact that he was trying to angle down occurred to Sam and she lifted herself up. Within seconds she was lying on top of him, O'Neill's hands flat against the ground in order to keep them from a) digging into his back and b) falling asleep too quickly.

"I should have known you'd want me on top," Sam said wickedly, and they grinned at each other, too happy for the moment to bother with all the insecurity and shadows that normally haunted them in situations like these.

It had been a really great escape that morning, and the only thing that could possibly dampen their mood was the fact that they were still tied up. At least until Daniel returned with the village elders, and that, judging by his apologetic expression as they led him away, could be a while.

Of course, their restraints didn't appear to be dampening anything at the moment.

"Better," Sam sighed.

"Much," Jack agreed, and used the leverage he had from his hands being on the ground to push himself up against her. This elicited a large smile from Sam.

There was eye contact, and then there was kissing. Messy, quick kisses with open mouths that made them both smile, which led to more sloppy kisses until they were laughing helplessly against each others' lips and teeth.

They lay against each other, Sam's head curled under Jack's chin, shaking with silent laughter. Finally, they quieted, and Sam moved her head, kissed Jack's neck, feeling him go completely still under her. She smiled for only one second, then lifted her head, kissed his jaw, and slowly moved to his lips.

This time the kiss was slow and deep, Sam driving each change, from a slow bruising of lips, to the first tentative explorations with her tongue, until she lost all method and then they were back to sloppy.

Only, it was a vastly different kind of sloppy. A warm, serious sloppy that just itched to go somewhere.

Now the restraints seemed a little annoying.

It was almost a relief when the door opened, and they heard Daniel's voice say, "Whoa…okay, then, I should probably just…"

"If you shut that door without taking these damn things off, you are a dead man."

And if Jack's threat came out more in gasps than coherent words, it wasn't entirely his fault, because Sam didn't quite seem to have gotten the hint that she should stop long enough to let him talk.

But then, Daniel always had been good at deciphering tongues.