A/N: This chapter, and only this chapter, is rated M. So if you're under 18, skip it and go on to Chapter 8. You won't skip anything crucial story wise. Promise. Thanks.
She rose slowly into consciousness, her body responding to his even from the depths of sleep: he pressed against her back, his hand clasping her hip, his need hard along her thigh. His hips rocked against hers, gentle yet persistent, and she shifted, legs parting, instinct welcoming him in. His hand tangled into her hair, arching her back, positioning her as he pressed forward, slipping easily past the narrow band of her panties and sliding into her.
And then he was thrusting, and it had been six weeks, and she hadn't realized the full extent of her own hunger until he was pressing her into the mattress with each stroke and she needed more; she couldn't get enough. He pushed harder - deeper - his body responding to hers until finally it was enough and driven past the brink she shattered completely beneath him.
Mere seconds later he collapsed on top of her, fully spent himself; they lay in a tangle upon the mattress, neither willing nor able to move.
Then Jack shifted off her and she followed, rolling around to face him. Her arms slipped around his neck; she buried her head in his chest as he held her tight.
And only then, finally, Sam cried.