This came to me and had to be written; I always felt that Sam might secretly have this particular fantasy, but be too buttoned up ever to indulge it... Please read and review!
It was very late, verging on being very early, and the cabin was snowbound. They had been meant to leave three days ago, and it would probably be another two before they could. It was a time out of time, an unexpected oasis in their busy lives of planned weekends and ships-that-pass-in-the-night weeks. Jack and Sam lay snuggled together on the old double mattress that they had pulled in front of the fire after the heating had failed. They had enough wood to last the winter out if need be; the electricity hadn't been missed at all.
"Go on, it's your turn. Tell me about a fantasy - something you've never told me before."
She turns, snuggling towards him, and firelight glints on her long flanks, each delicate blond hair illuminated. He watches her stretch, fascinated, as always, by the delicate motion of muscle under golden skin, aroused, as always, even after 12 years of knowing her, four years of having her, two years of marriage. He shifts his position, and the fire light sets her hair alight with red glints.
"I told you mine," he wheedles, licking a finger and running it over her hip and thigh, leaving a clear path through the gilded hairs. He feels rather than hears her laughter.
"Rolling through the 'Gate, 'in flagrante delicto,' being dis-assembled and re-molecularized on the other side?" Her fingers are teasing his nipples, and he grabs them, terribly ticklish.
"In flag... hey, I didn't say anything about us being on fire when we went through!"
"In flagrante delicto, Jack, has nothing to do with actually being on fire...," he loves her scolding tone, and his chuckle lets her know she's been had.
"You're teasing me." In revenge she pulls one of his chest hairs, right out, and he yelps and jumps her, rolling her over and pinning her hands on either side of her head. He's grinning.
"A bit." His head drops and he delicately bites an earlobe, making her shiver uncontrollably. "Or you could just take it as read that I'm always on fire, when in flagrante with you." He nibbles more of her ear.
"Do you know," she says thoughtfully, turning her head to allow him better access to the delicate skin of her neck, "that may be the nicest compliment anyone's ever paid me?"
"Mmm," he raises his head, looking pleased with himself. "Flattery won't get you anywhere though - you owe me one fantasy, straight up."
The look she turns on him is level, serious, and he pauses, watching her. She releases her hands, and pulls at her lower lip with her index finger. It's a habit she has, a nervous tic while thinking. He wonders suddenly what she's about to tell him... and she speaks his thoughts aloud.
"You may not want to know, Jack." The mood has changed: they are both serious now. He takes a deep breath, but points out "I asked." She nods and shifts restlessly under his weight, making him release her instantly. She rolls over onto her tummy.
You've heard most of my fantasies, Jack," with a sideways glance, amused, "and fulfilled most of them." He can feel that smug grin coming over his face again, and doesn't try to hide it.
"There's one I've never told you about, though, because there's nothing you can do to help me fulfill it." She rolls her shoulders back; he can see she's second-guessing the wisdom of talking about this. He's intrigued, though, intensely curious: they aren't touching and somehow he knows that to reach out to her now will stop her; she'll stop talking and hide this away again, away from him. So he keeps very quiet, very still, his eyes on her averted face.
There is a long pause, and then she speaks, so softly that he strains to hear her over the faint crackling of the wood fire.
"Sometimes, I fantasise about other women."
There's a loud crack and the log breaks in two, showering the hearth in sparks. Neither of them moves to put another one on the fire. They remain frozen in place, twin statues, warmed by flames. Jack is so aroused he thinks he might die from the loss of blood to his head. Sam, risking a glance at his immobile form, notices where the blood has gone, and smiles in relief.
"I was afraid you would be" she swallows convulsively, "revolted," and the unmoving moment is gone. He's growling and pushing her onto her back, kissing her hard enough to bruise; she kisses back, her hand on the back of his neck, biting his lip. It's some minutes before they pull apart, panting.
"Carter" and his voice is rough. "I'm a guy. All through. And the Classic Male Fantasy," here he breathes in deeply, feeling dizzy, "the absolute kicker," he breathes out again, "is two women together, pleasuring each other..." His voice gives out completely and he shakes his head.
"Revolted?? Never in a million years."
He trails his fingers down her torso, rounding her breasts, making the nipples leap up tautly. Then further down, drawing barely-there circles on her belly, loving her little moans.
"Tell me more." His fingers trail down the inside of her thighs. She shivers, crying out softly in protest as he stills his movement.
"There was a girl." His fingers begin their featherlight dance again.
"She was older; I'd just started Junior High." Her voice is dreamy, remembering. "I used to hang around her locker in the corridor, hoping she'd see me, notice me. She had long, dark hair." Sam's voice is almost inaudible. "I wanted to stroke it, wind my hands in it. It was wonderful, almost like a living thing on its own." She exhales slowly.
"Did she notice you?" His fingers draw figure eights over her kneecaps.
"She smiled at me," Carter's voice is hazy in memory, "and she asked me to sign her Yearbook." She sighs. "I was 14. The next year I fell madly in love with a football player. I didn't have another... crush... on a girl till the Air Force Academy."
"The Academy?" He has his erection under control now, but just barely. At least there's enough blood flowing through his brain to allow him to speak intelligibly.
"Mmmmm." Sam is lost in memory. Her nipples are still erect; he doesn't think that's down to him, just at the moment.
"She was just glorious. Tall, slim, very athletic. She had these eyes that just looked straight at you, you know? No bullshit. And she had this, this..."
"Let me guess." His voice is warm, low. "Long dark hair?"
Sam chuckles reluctantly, but nods. "Yeah, she did. I only saw it loose the once, though." His hands are now flush against her chest; he feels her heart rate speed up, and leans over her, eyes wide.
"Carter? She pop your girl-on-girl cherry?"
A bubble of laughter emerges from his wife - she chokes.
"Ja-ack! That's just...plain crude! Yuk!"
He's laughing too: he releases her and she stretches over to toss more wood on the fire; they've been talking for ages and it's getting cold. Fire restored, she sits back, hugging her knees to her chest.
'Well, no. No, I've never been brave enough to, um (she grimaces) lose that particular cherry, as you so elegantly put it." She gives him a chiding look. "She did kiss me though." She licks her lips in remembrance, and Jack feels the blood flow reverse, again.
"We were the only two in the locker room; she was brushing out her hair and she leaned over and kissed me. I thought I was going to pass out when it happened." Her eyes are deep pools, seeing only the past. "She tasted of coffee, and mints."
She turns her head to look at Jack. "It was only a kiss. I was too scared to follow it up."
"Pity." He pulls himself up to lie behind her, pulling her back against his chest. "Were there any others?"
She hesitates, for barely a moment, then answers him. "Not really. No."
He can sense there is more she's not telling him. Despite his perennial act, he's not a stupid man.
"Hmmm?" Sitting half upright he begins dropping kisses on the nape of her neck, brushing the long strands of hair out of the way. "So you're saying I shouldn't be concerned that I came in last week and found you wrapping Vala in a bath towel, oh, and in your arms??" He nips her shoulder and she squeaks, jumping slightly. His hand on her hip holds her still - he blows cool air over the path of his kisses and watches goosebumps rise.
"She was sopping wet, Jack, and freezing cold - she never remembers her raincoat." Her voice is husky; she's turned towards him and is nibbling his lower lip, her words vibrating against his skin.
"Okay..." he returns the nibble, with interest, and slowly pushes her back onto the mattress. "but Sam, she does have very long, very dark, very sexy hair..." He feels her heart rate speed up, knows he's hit paydirt, but refrains from obvious gloating. He has something important to say,
"Carter." He stills his hands, speaks against her jaw. "I love this fantasy. Best I ever heard" hell, now it's his heart rate speeding up. "You're right, though, I can't help you fulfill it."
He takes a deep breath: she is very still under him, and he slowly slides over her, parting her legs with his own, opening her up to him. "There's one thing I can do though." He's poised to take her, one thrust and he'll be deep inside her body. Still he holds back.
"If you ever want to live out that fantasy," he's whispering in her her ear; she thinks she might faint if he doesn't enter her soon, "if you find someone to play it out with... you have my blessing." Slowly, slowly, he eases into her, inch by inch. Her eyes are dilated so wide there is only a rim of blue left around a sea of black - he's never seen her this aroused.
"Just one condition," and she barely nods, her muscles straining with the effort of keeping still, of not thrusting up to meet him, to end this unbearably erotic slow penetration.
"Tell me" he whispers, and thrusts into her, filling her so suddenly she gasps, panting, adjusting to the feel of him inside her. His eyes hold hers. "I want to know. If, or when, it happens, tell me about it."
There is a beat, a heartbeats pause, and she nods, agreeing to his terms. Still he doesn't break his gaze, remaining motionless inside her, till her lips part and she whispers just one word.
"Please..."
Three thrusts later and she is over the edge, screaming his name; two more thrusts and he joins her. Neither notice that the fire has burned away, only the redly glowing embers filling the room with a deep residual warmth.