A/N: Warning: Hot, hot, hot!

Okay, I've changed the rating to R. It's not terribly explicit, but it's steamy enough to warrant the shift. I can write trashy bodice-ripper scenes with the best of them, but I usually try to keep it tame, because I like making my readers use their imaginations. This time, however the muse had other plans. Please tell me if it's too much. I can take criticism!

I really need to finish this story before season 8 ends, lest TPTB stick it to us Shippers and leave me eternally grumpy about the show. I'm convinced we're going to see some sort of resolution before season 9 airs, I just can't get too excited about it yet, because I know how much Shippers in general have already suffered. (I was so traumatized by the Farscapecliffhanger that I refused to even discuss it until The Peacekeeper Wars aired. And Angel? Don't get me started.) I'm perpetually horrified that these amazingly talented screenwriters come up with such awesome, complex characters and relationships, only to leave us totally dissatisfied at the end. (Let's all use our powers of positive thinking to affect the space-time continuum and get a Happy Shipper Ending.) Anyway, I'm going to enjoy my nice little Sam-Jack fantasy world for as long as humanly possible.

With that in mind…

Chapter 6

Oh my, Sam thought dazedly. In spite of the increasing frequency her kisses with Jack, they certainly hadn't lost any of their punch. She felt the firm, insistent touch of his lips with all the intensity of a lightning strike. In fact, she was fairly convinced that this embrace was more powerful than either of the previous ones, perhaps due to Jack's drug-induced abandon.

Vaguely, she felt a tiny but insistent part of her brain begin setting off a series of alarm bells. Stop! STOP!! She halfheartedly tried pulling away, but Jack would have none of it. His arms constricted around her like iron bands, drawing her snugly against him.

"Jack," she mumbled weakly, "We shouldn't do this." Her body, however, was clearly not in agreement. She was practically melting in his arms.

Not allowing her lips to leave his, he spoke against her mouth in a way that was delightfully sensual. "Carter, didn't you get my memo? Think less. That's an order." With that, he continued his thorough and unrelenting exploration of her mouth.

Sam felt his tongue gently trace the corner of her lips, and a shiver reflexively ran down her spine. She was rapidly losing control of the situation, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Part of her longed to just give in to the torrent of feelings coursing through her veins, but another part of her was terrified to walk this path. Jack was obviously not thinking clearly, and Sam worried that he might regret his actions later.

"You can't issue me an order now," she gasped in between fevered kisses. When she felt cool air on her belly, she realized that he'd pulled her shirt free from her waistband and was now slowly inching it upwards.

"Why not?" he growled. He leaned back slightly, moving just far enough to meet her gaze head-on. As if daring her to contradict him, his hands continued their illicit activities, revealing a wide, smooth strip of bare skin around her midriff.

Sam swallowed hard. She felt like she had a tiger by the tail. She knew she couldn't slow him down with the feeble grip she currently held, but she didn't dare let go, or she'd be consumed instantly.

When no reply was immediately forthcoming, Jack once again leaned forward and resumed his tantalizing pursuit of her mouth. The kiss was maddeningly slow. In contrast to their other frantic embraces, this meeting of lips was leisurely, intense, and thoroughly erotic.

Feeling the world tilt sideways again, Sam tried to reign in her hormones. Using all her remaining willpower, she pulled her mouth a few millimeters away from Jack's and spoke in a throaty whisper. "It's illegal," she said hoarsely. "You can't order me to fraternize."

For his part, Jack just chuckled. The low, sensuous sound rumbled forward on a warm breath that tickled Sam's lips. "Mmmmm," he murmured wickedly, "Carter, I love it when you talk dirty." Then, grinning broadly, he closed the infinitesimal space between their mouths.

Sam felt heat slice through her belly like a knife. Oh, lord. I'm in trouble, she thought hopelessly. She was losing this battle. There was just no way her better judgment could fight both of their pent-up desires. And since 'Officer Jack' was apparently sleeping with the poppies, she had no other allies in her camp tonight.

Again struck by the thought of Jack's pain medication, she tried one last, desperate attempt to talk some sense into him. "Jack," she murmured, sounding sultry to even her own ears, "You're not thinking clearly. It's the-" she gasped as one of his warm hands finally slipped beneath the stretchy fabric of her sports bra. "It's the medication," she rasped, barely able to complete her thought.

Jack's mouth began a slow, teasing descent from her mouth to the hollow of her neck. Simultaneously, his palm gently supported the full weight of her breast, while his thumb reverently caressed its sensitive peak. "Sam," he said softly, trailing kisses up to her earlobe as he spoke, "your argument would hold a lot more weight if we hadn't been in this exact position twenty-four hours ago, when neither of us under the influence of anything chemical." His lips gently wandered to the sensitive spot just behind her ear and began to pull shivers from the very deepest center of her being. "I wanted you like this when I was dead sober," he murmured. Then, with a grin that Sam could actually hear, he completed his thought. "The narcotics just make it a little more intense."

Though Sam couldn't claim to be under the influence of any drugs, she honestly couldn't imagine feeling anything more intense than her desire for the man beside her.

Oh, to hell with it. Who needs a career anyway?

With those thoughts, Sam chucked the last vestiges of caution to the wind and threw herself into her lover's awaiting embrace.

Jack felt the exact moment she gave in. Suddenly, he went from trying to seduce his gorgeous companion to attempting to slow her down. "Easy, Carter," he groaned, feeling her hands eagerly tugging on the top button of his pants. "I appreciate the enthusiasm," he gasped, "but you're killing me."

She slowly rocked back on her heels and smiled down at him impishly. "I'm sure you're man enough to take it, sir," she said saucily, clearly emphasizing the 'sir.' His eyes darkened as they locked with her electrically intense gaze. "Didn't your Special Ops training cover situations like this?" With that, she leisurely grabbed hold of her t-shirt's hem and pulled it up over her head. Then, never looking away from him, she repeated the process with her sports bra.

As the filtered moonlight gently illumined her naked upper body, Jack felt his throat constrict. He was stunned. She was utterly, completely perfect. Luminous, ivory skin gleamed softly in the dim twilight, accentuating a trim body that was sublimely full in all the right places. It was hard to say which part of her captivated him most – the gentle curve where her waistline met her hips, the soft fullness of her breasts, the shadowed hollow of her throat… Jack felt completely awestruck by the vision of beauty before him.

Sam watched the play of emotions on his face, and felt something deep and powerful shift in her chest. He was looking at her not as a careless, fevered man driven by hormones might, but rather, as a man who was viewing something priceless. She felt her playfulness drain away. The reverence in his eyes was as moving as it was unexpected.

"Sam." He continued to just look at her, spellbound by the ethereal quality of her beauty. "You're incredible," he said softly.

She swallowed, completely speechless. No one had ever made her feel so… worshipped before. Most of the men in her past had viewed her as a china doll – pretty, but too fragile to be anything but decorative. Jack, on the other hand, was looking at her not as a cold, perfect statue on a pedestal, but instead as a real, breathing woman. He'd seen her competence as a soldier too many times to doubt her strong determination, but at the same time, he seemed to be completely overwhelmed by this yet-unseen feminine side of her. She looked steadily into his deep, brown eyes, trying to convey her complex feelings without words.

As always, their nearly supernatural bond took over, and he seemed to understand her perfectly. He reached up and took her hands in his, slowly drawing her towards him. Sam needed little prompting. In moments, her body was pressed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and her mouth was once again molded intimately to his. Instinctively, she tugged at his hem, pulling the shirt free from his waistband. Catching on to her intention, he crunched his stomach muscles just enough to lift his upper body off the floor. Without further prompting, Sam helped him raise his arms and swiftly removed the garment.

The temperature in the tiny tent seemed to shoot up a few thousand degrees as the soft, smooth skin of her torso met the rough, bristly texture of his. Their lips fused together frantically, tongues meeting in an age-old rhythm that beat a cadence for the primitive dance of life. Giddy explorations led to novel discoveries, often encouraged by soft sounds of passion and delight.

It was there, in that synergistic moment of near-perfection, when the Garden of Eden suddenly came crashing down.

"Colonel O'Neill? Major Carter? Do you copy?"

It was hard to say who was more shocked. Sam froze for a moment before pulling back to look Jack in the eye. He had adopted an expression somewhere between supreme frustration and total disbelief. "Sam," he said slowly, "did you just hear General Hammond?" Maybe, he prayed, it was just a side effect of the narcotics.

Unfortunately, Sam nodded her head, looking just as floored as he did. "I didn't think the radios would work at this distance," she breathed anxiously. "Good God," she gasped, abruptly pulling away. "You don't think he's on the planet?"

Jack's mouth fell open. "I'm not sure I can think anything right now. Carter, I'm afraid you're going to have to handle this one. Between the effects of the drugs and, well… you, I'm a bit muddled."

Seeing the truth of his words reflected in his bewildered gaze, Sam grabbed the nearest t-shirt – his – and yanked it on over her head. Then, fumbling for her discarded vest, she finally managed to pull her radio from its clip. "General Hammond?" Sam heard a slight, breathy quality to her voice, which she fervently prayed did not transmit over the static-filled airwaves.

"Glad to hear you're still with us, Major." The General didn't appear to sound suspicious. "How are things on your end?"

Sam fumbled for a reply that wouldn't sound as shell-shocked as she currently felt. "We're okay, sir. Colonel O'Neill had a tough time today. We walked on some pretty harsh terrain for almost eight hours, and his knees didn't hold up very well. He took some pain medication earlier and is asleep now." She figured it might be better if Jack sat this conversation completely out. Lord only knew what he'd say in his somewhat-altered state. "I'm frankly a little surprised to hear you, sir. We're pretty far away from the gate. I didn't think we'd be able to maintain radio contact at this distance."

Hammond replied easily. "Earlier today, we used the UAV to drop a transmitter at the edge of our radio range. It might get knocked out by the eruption, but until then, it should allow us to communicate."

Sam relaxed slightly. At least he wasn't bearing down on their current position. "Good thinking, sir," she said, trying to sound pleased with the arrangement.

"I'm sorry to hear about Jack's knees. Are you in a good position to wait out the volcano?" Hammond asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Sam's reply was instantaneous. The impersonal nature of their conversation was slowly bringing her back to a state of relative mental clarity. "Yes, sir. We found a spot on the next ridge with some fresh water. It was a hike, but we should be safe from mudflows here."

She could almost hear the General nod approvingly. "Good. Well, I won't keep you, Major. You must be exhausted. I just didn't get a chance to speak to you earlier. Doctor Jackson has been very attentive, and seemed to take over communications from our end. He's very concerned about you and the Colonel." If Hammond thought Daniel's actions were odd, he didn't indicate it at all. "Make sure Jack doesn't over-exert himself. Hopefully, you'll be able to wait out the eruption in relative peace. Now, get some rest, and as long as we can keep radio communications open, I'll be speaking with you on a daily basis."

Sam almost choked on the General's orders. She hadn't been doing a very good job of keeping Jack from over-exerting himself so far, and getting rest had been very far from her mind. Still, she couldn't let Hammond know any of that. "Thank you sir," she said. Then, hesitating slightly, she decided to take a small risk. "And, please tell Daniel 'thanks' for his help in getting our supplies." That should keep him wondering, she thought with a smile.

General Hammond's reply was pleasant and unsuspecting. "I'll do that, Major. Hammond out."

The radio fell silent, and Sam let out a huge sigh of relief. "Wow, that was really…" she turned to Jack as she spoke, and upon seeing him, she stopped abruptly.

Her attentive dream lover of a few minutes ago had quietly been transformed during her conversation with the General. Now, it appeared he was a dreaming lover. His soft snores convinced her that he was completely down for the count.

Sam laughed humorlessly. So much for a night of passion. Sighing deeply, she pulled an emergency blanket from her pack and tenderly laid it over Jack's sleeping form. Then, sliding into her bedroll, she snuggled up beside his large, slumbering body. She couldn't turn her buzzing thoughts off, however. It was impossible to bring order to her tangled emotions, so she finally settled on trying to accept them as they were. If nothing else, the events of this evening had proven one thing for certain.

There wasn't enough pizza and beer in the galaxy to cover this episode.

A/N: Evil grin.