*
*
Jack counted to three.
One.
Two.
Three.
Opened eyes.
*Damn*
And there he'd been, hoping it was all a dream.
She moved.
He froze.
Aaaaeerrggggghhh.
*Don't do that, Carter. Don't move a muscle*
Jack scrunched up his face in protest.
Stupid damn hormones. Stupid body. Stupid brain. Stupid chemicals. Stupid gorgeous 2IC.
He rolled his eyes.
Great.
Now he was sounding like a three year old in his own mind.
Had to be a new achievement.
Maybe if he....
Oh! Oh! Very bad idea! Very, very bad idea!
She moved again.
Aaaaeeeeeiiiiiiii.
That hand..... That damn hand was so... so very close to a place it really oughtn't to be...
Jesus. His temperature was rocketing.
This wasn't happening. This wasn't *happening*.
Maybe if he closed his eyes and counted to three...?
Jack counted to three.
One.
Two.
Three!
Opened eyes.
*Damn*
It was funny. All the times this had happened before, all he'd had to do was close his eyes and count to three and when he woke up, poof, she was gone.
Just like that.
Obviously, he would be terribly disappointed, but that wasn't the point.
Now it seemed to be for real.
Bad, bad, bad, bad, *bad*.
He tried desperately to detach himself from his body. To remove his mind and all those pesky thoughts from the areas which were affected by Carter's presence.
He couldn't believe she was lying on him.
How many times had he....?
Look, this was how things got out of control, he told himself firmly.
Think calm, cool, un-sexy thoughts.
Sand.
Artefacts.
Blood.
Torture.
Ba'al.
Aw, crap. Don't go there, Jack. Don't go there, Jack. Don't........
Hooooooooooly shit.
Hand.
Hand.
Her hand.
Move hand!
Move hand now!
Desperately need hand to be removed!
*Carter for God's sake I'm only human*
She snuffled.
Snuffled? How adorable was...?
Stop it, Jack. She is *not* adorable. She is professional, not interested, beautiful, on top of yooooooouaaaaaahhhh...
She sat up then, legs straddling either side, her groin *right* above his, her warm hands pressing into his stomach.
Oh boy.
Sam Carter blinked at him. "This is a dream," she said with the assurance of someone who thought she was still asleep.
His hands were clutching at his head. He was in no mood to be subtle. "Please, please, get off of me...."
"What?"
His hands squeezed harder. "I swear to God, Carter, if you don't get off of me now...."
She was hardly awake. Her eyes were glazed with sleep, hair tousled, skin dappled with the impressions of his shirt buttons.
So, really, she could hardly be at fault when she wriggled on top of him, shifting slightly to the left, then to the right and, somehow, God, *somehow*, shifting *down* onto him.
Jack's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands flew out to either side of him, gripping at the empty sleeping bags on either side. "Christ Almighty."
"Huh?"
See? Didn't know what she was doing? He was gonna die but she really didn't mean it....
"*Oh*"
.... no idea whatsoever. Absolutely none.
This was ridiculous. They were fully dressed. This was not supposed to happen. He was for..... aaarrrghhh! "*Carter!*"
She laughed delightedly, leaning over his face in the darkness. Her mouth touched his. "Shall I do that again?"
Jack closed his eyes and counted to three.
One.
Two.
Three.
Opened them.
Still there.
"Oh yeah...."