Notes: This little ficlet came about because of a discussion on GateWorld about a certain photograph of Jack (from the episode 2010) sitting in a chair outside his cabin with his legs spread wide. I'd post the url to the image but has some quirky filters and it wouldn't show.
Thanks to PolRobin for the quick beta.
Surprise
Part 1
Large, expressive blue eyes watched from a dark corner of the room, taking in the familiar surroundings, sounds and smells of the old rustic home. A small, mischievous smile played across Sam's face when she saw him. It had been weeks since they'd seen each other and it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed not to hurry into the house and throw herself on top of him, under him, at this point, it really didn't matter to her.
It was late, and she knew he'd be asleep, so she'd stealthily used the key he'd given her when they'd first started seeing each other to let herself in. What she surprisingly found was endearingly arousing; the big, gruff Air Force General that she'd loved for more years than she could admit was sound asleep on the couch, Homer Simpson strutting around in his very tight briefs on the television screen in front of him.
It'd been a busy few months and they'd hardly seen one another. The Ori attempt to get a foothold in the Milky Way was looking more ominous by the day and after the last week of a mysterious plague striking down thousands all over the planet, it was no wonder he'd fallen asleep somewhere less conventional - and comfortable, than his bed.
She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week herself, preferably next to the space heater that was Jack O'Neill. But, even through her exhaustion, the temptation sound asleep in front of her was too good to resist. Sam took a few cautious steps forward carefully watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the dark t-shirt. His long legs were encased in sweat pants easily a size too large and were parted indecently - if they were in public. Long fingers draped listlessly over his upper thigh twitching every so often and bringing a smile to Sam's face. Even in sleep the restless digits couldn't be tamed. He snored lightly but the sound was muffled by the bulbous yellow bodies arguing on the television.
Sam licked her lips and thought about her plan of attack. She could be subtle and sensual, everything she wasn't feeling at this very moment, or she could be direct and demanding, something she very much wanted to be after their long months apart. In watching the man she loved sleeping deeply, dead to the world, she decided that a bit of play was warranted. After all, if the special ops trained officer hadn't heard her enter his home in the middle of the night she figured that earned her a bit of fun at his expense. Though, she was under no delusions that he wouldn't be instantly awake once she touched him.
She walked slowly over and knelt between his parted legs, careful not to touch him in any way. She rolled her eyes when Bart said something particularly dirty behind her and resisted the urge to wake Jack right then and there. Her fingers itched to stroke him and they twitched in anticipation. They brushed around the bare skin of his ankles before slowly traveling softly up his legs.
Sam could feel his body tense and his breathing change almost instantly. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth but his eyes remained firmly closed, which encouraged her to continue. Her hands slid up his long, long legs, pausing only briefly to dig her nails into his upper thighs until she reached the waistband of his sweat pants. Her fingers burrowed beneath the t-shirt to trail along the bare skin before sweeping upward across his chest. They paused briefly to lightly pinch the tight little nipples and she wasn't surprised at the sharp intake of breath as her fingers squeezed the hard buds.
She grinned mischievously when his eyes popped open and regarded her with such warm adoration and lust that she couldn't, not for the first time, fathom how they'd kept their hands to themselves for eight years.
"You're a tease," he said with a grin, his voice rough with sleep and arousal.
"Miss me?" Sam questioned, her hands sliding down his warm chest to rest at the waistband again. As much as she loved to touch him, any part of him, her fingers had a distinct goal and weren't about to be deterred.
"You know I did." His arms came down on her shoulders and those restless fingers she loved so much slid into her hair and began to tug gently at the strands.
While her eyes fixed on his oh-so-kissable mouth, his slid lustfully down her body. When the corner of his mouth lifted–his odd sense of humor undoubtedly finding something funny–her eyes narrowed.
"You know," he leaned forward, trapped her hands at his waist, and breathed against her lips, "if you're going to play out this really hot fantasy," he pressed an all too brief kiss to the corner of her mouth, "woulda been easier if you'd worn a skirt."
The End
or is it?
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End Notes: There may be another part to this - obviously with a higher rating. I'm not sure if I'll even finish it but if I do,. I'll post it.
