A/N: You're all 17, right? You all better be seventeen....


Sam's hand rested on the cool metal of the doorknob for much, much longer than it needed to. Only when she heard Jack's footsteps on the porch steps did she turn the knob and push the door open.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Plastering a smile on her face, she turned around to face her new husband. "Going inside?" she suggested weakly.

"Aww, come on. You know I'm a sucker for tradition." Handing her the veil he'd carried from the truck, he put one arm around her shoulders and easily scooped her into his arms, ignoring her surprised cry. He carried her over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind them, and didn't stop until he'd carted her up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

She might turn him down, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to at least give it a shot. A good one.

"Welcome home, Mrs. O'Neill," he murmured, setting her gently on her feet. He kissed her gently, lovingly, letting his fingers trail down her neck and over her bare shoulders. "You are so beautiful."

Blushing, she dropped her head, but she didn't pull away as he kissed her temple, then her cheekbone. His hands trailed around her arms to the zipper of her dress, and she shivered.

"Hey," he whispered, abandoning the zipper in favor of her chin. "You okay?"

She nodded – a little too quickly – but kept her eyes down. "I'm, um… nervous," she confessed, her voice no more than a breath.

His chuckle echoed in her ear. "It's like riding a bike, darlin'. You don't forget how." He trailed a row of kisses from her ear to the crook of her neck. "You're okay with this?"

"Yeah." Fake it 'til you feel it, she thought as the zipper slid slowly down her back. His kisses should have been intoxicating, but the fear in her gut was a big distraction. What if it hurt? What if she panicked? He'd think her a fool.

"I love you so much." He caught her lips and she responded eagerly, determined to beat back her fears. Sensing the change in her, he smiled into the kiss and let the dress slip to the floor between them. The corset she wore was simple, plain, but his eyes darkened as though it was the most alluring thing he'd ever seen. He skimmed his hands down it with a groan. "God, I want you."

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her easily out of the puddle of satin on the floor. Not to be outdone – and certainly not about to end up the only one naked – she pushed the tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, the weight of it collapsing to the floor behind him, before working on his shirt buttons to reveal smooth, muscled chest. Impatiently, he yanked the shirt off and reached for her again, alternatively nipping and soothing her lower lip as his hands slipped around her back and tugged at the laces there, tantalizingly pulling them from each eyelet, his limber fingers teasing and caressing her back.

"You know, it hooks in the front," she murmured against his lips.

Breaking away from her mouth, his lips trailed a line of kisses across the soft line of her jaw, pausing only to ask, "What's the fun in that?" Without warning, he caught an earlobe in his teeth, and she gasped as the sensation screamed through her body. "Feeling better now?" he chuckled, slowly making his way back to look her in the eye.

"Absolutely." The knot in her stomach had officially lost the battle with rising arousal, and her fingers found the button of his pants and flicked it open. She could do this. She wanted this – wanted him.

A moan that sounded suspiciously like her name escaped him as she carefully slid down the zipper, her fingers brushing the hard length beneath. Quickly kicking his shoes off, he stepped out of the pants and pressed into her, his lips hot on her neck as he pulled free the last of the laces. When he stepped back, he took the corset with him.

She stood stock still as he examined her, taking in every inch of pale, delicate skin as she stood in only a thong and her heels. Her chest heaved, making her breasts move deliciously. It was mesmerizing.

"Jack?" she whispered, and though a smile spread over his face, he didn't look up.

"You're incredible." His head ducked to her breast and he eagerly lapped at a pert nipple, sucking and teasing the skin around it as his agile hands slid the thong she wore down her toned legs. When she moaned in pleasure, he gently pushed her back onto the bed, easily sliding up beside her.

Reaching down, Sam started to take off the strappy heels she wore, but his hand stilled her. "Oh, no," he insisted, waggling his eyebrows at her, "those stay."

"Kinky." Her laugh quickly turned to a moan as he moved his ministrations to her other breast, one hand straying to draw lazy circles low on her stomach. The way the skin there quivered involuntarily beneath his touch was thrilling; he quickly abandoned the breast he'd been lathing attention on to kiss his way down her body, tracing every muscle. Tenderly, lovingly, he traced the line of a scar – the source of the other love of his life – with his lips.

Her hands tangled in his hair and she tugged him toward her face, desperately wanting his lips on hers. "Jack," she groaned in frustration.

He began a slow ascent, sucking and teasing every inch of her. His mission was vital, and he would not be rushed.

"God, Jack." The fingers became insistent, tugging, nails biting to the point of distraction.

"I'm not done yet," he growled, gently taking her wrists and pressing them to the mattress by her shoulders, pinning her.

He realized his mistake almost immediately.

A startled, frightened cry tore from her throat as every muscle in her body tensed beneath him. When he looked up, her eyes were wide, terrified, and she struggled earnestly to get out of his grasp. "Carter," he started anxiously, immediately releasing his grip and pushing to his knees to give her space. "Carter, I'm sorry. I wasn't-"

Choking back tears, she scrambled away from him and off the bed, groping desperately for something to support her as she gasped for air. All she could see was Lewen's face, feel his hands, the pain….

Jack could only stare at her, feeling like the biggest ass in the world. She had trusted him, let herself be truly vulnerable for the first time since everything had gone so completely wrong, and he'd blown it. Completely. Suddenly all her trepidation made sense – her words to Teal'c took on a whole new meaning – and he cursed himself for being so utterly dense. He could only imagine how far he'd just set back the fragile peace she'd found.

"Aw, Sam," he breathed. Quietly retrieving her robe from the hook on the door, he draped it gently over her shaking shoulders, and stepped back, trying desperately not to make things any worse. He had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"No," he soothed. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I never should have done that."

She clutched the robe around her as she spun to face him, her cheeks soaked in tears. "I wanted this to be perfect. I just wanted… I'm sorry."

He blinked. "Whoa, wait. You're upset because… because you think I'm upset?"

"It's our wedding night," she whispered, crushed. "You've given me so much, and I can't even-"

"Sam, stop." He reached for her face, and when she didn't pull back, he gently cradled it between his two hands. "You're right. It's our wedding night. And this should be the happiest day of your life – or, at least, up there. I didn't…. I got carried away, and I'm sorry."

"Jack-"

"Sam. If you're not up to this, then I'll wait." He cleared his throat as the panic faded and certain parts of his anatomy began to ache. "As much as it pains me," he gritted out, "I'll wait."

The way she scrubbed the tears from her face said clearly just how frustrated she was with the situation – and herself. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"For better or worse, Carter. I meant that." Especially now that he knew her reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with him. Taking her hands gently in his, he tugged her toward him. "Can I hold you?"

"Please," she whispered, stepping into his arms. He hugged her tightly, his arms warm and strong, and Sam pressed her face eagerly into his chest. This man was the love of her life – strong and confident, yet gentle, compassionate, tender….

Abruptly, she pushed away and stepped back. "This is stupid," she said suddenly.

"Uh… what?" Something had changed in the blink of an eye, and, as usual, she'd left him in the dust.

"It's about control, right? They say it's not about the sex, it's about control."

"You mean… him," Jack said, pretty sure she meant the rape, but not willing to say any more if she didn't.

"Yes. And if that's true, then he's still winning."

"He's gone, Carter." He quickly corrected himself. "Sam."

"But he isn't. As long as he keeps me from living my life, he wins. He can't win."

"Okay…." He still didn't get it. "How do you intend to kill a dead guy?"

Without warning, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her for a kiss different than any they'd shared before – dark, feral, demanding. It took every ounce of energy he had to turn off his instinct to shove her up against the wall and push her away instead. "Carter, what are you doing?"

"Taking my life back," she said with complete certainty. "Help me." The robe slipped away as she propelled him back toward the bed, and he cringed inwardly when his attempt to break his fall ended in accidentally grabbing her ass. She toppled with him, her lips dropping to his neck.

"Sam," he groaned. "Look at me. Look at me!" When she finally met his eyes, he found a determination there he hadn't seen in over a year. Still, he knew she was only trying to prove something to herself – and to him. "You don't really want to do this."

"Not only do I want to," she pressed, "I'm going to. Lose the boxers."

Oh, he wanted that, too. "Just tell me you're not gonna regret this."

A brilliant smile spread across her face. "I'm not gonna regret this. Jack O'Neill, I want you to make love to me."

The last of his clothing was gone in seconds, and he returned the kiss eagerly this time, matching her force. Scraping his fingernails up her back made her moan in pleasure, and he squeezed her shoulders firmly, then pushed her off of him.

"What?" she growled in frustration, her pupils wide with arousal.

Sliding to sit up against the headboard, he lifted her to straddle his lap before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue sparring intently with hers as her hips twitched oh, so close to their goal. His hands found her breasts and skillfully squeezed and stroked the mounds to pert alertness before one hand broke free and teased its way down just to the top of her curls and stopped, seeking permission to enter the most sacred of places.

Sam broke off the kiss with a smile, meeting his gaze intently. "Yes."

He returned the smile with a wicked grin of his own as a single finger darted between her legs and flicked the tiny bundle of nerves there, making her hips twitch. When she didn't object, he began an all-out assault on the tiny nub, using his free hand to hold her in place. The eye contact was unbelievably arousing, and she held it as long as possible, until the pleasure overwhelmed her and her head fell back.

"Jack, please," she begged.

"Please what?" he asked, his own voice thick.

"I want you."

His own hips moved involuntarily at her words, and he swiftly pulled his hand away and clamped it to her rear, pulling her over his arousal. "Look at me," he gasped, and she met his eyes, knowing he sought any sort of pain or uncertainty. He found none.

"I love you," she whispered, dropping her hips to take just the tip of him. They both moaned at the contact, and she sank a little further before starting a gentle rhythm, each stroke a little deeper than the last. "Oh, Jack," she breathed, sinking deeper and deeper until at last she held all of him.

His fingers were clutching her tightly, and he forced them open, moving them to clench the headboard instead. This was her drive, her mission, and he was giving her complete control.

The pace she chose was relentless, and he groaned raggedly, smacking his head hard against the wall as the incredible sensations tore through him with every thrust. He was already so close, and by the look on her face, she was, too.

"Jack," she gasped, "help me."

The finger found its way between them again, and she cried out at the contact as he teased and taunted in time with her rhythm. It wasn't long before her pupils suddenly contracted and she cried out as her body convulsed and tightened around him.

"Carter," he groaned, and in two thrusts of his own he was a goner, pressing his head back against the wall as he exploded into her. Her head melted into his neck, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her as she shuddered in the aftermath of her climax. "I love you," he whispered.

She mumbled something incoherent into his skin as the tension drained from her body and she settled into him. He held her there, unwilling to let her out of his arms despite the protests from his legs bearing all her weight, and there, safe and warm in her lover's arms, Jack let her fall into a deep sleep.

~/~

It was hours later when Jack woke up to pins and needles stabbing him in the legs and a nasty cramp in his neck. As much as he didn't want to do it, he had to wake Carter and move her.

They ended up lying with her back to him, his arms under her head and around her waist, holding her tightly. It was something they'd done a million times before, but now, naked but for the rings on their fingers, it felt so much more intimate.

"Sam?" he asked softly, unsure if she'd already fallen back asleep.

"Hmm?"

"I need to ask you something, and you're not gonna like it."

She tried to turn to him, but he held her tighter, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Jack," she said softly, "you can ask me anything."

"Anything?"

She chuckled. "I might not answer, but you can ask."

He pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "Sam, I love you. But I hurt you, not knowing… and I don't ever want to hurt you like that again."

"It's okay, Jack. You couldn't know." She had stiffened a little, but she stroked his arm reassuringly.

"I know. Exactly. So I need you to tell me… if there are other things." Her back went ramrod straight, and he knew he'd hit a nerve. He kissed her neck again and pulled her closer to him. "Sam, the last thing I want to do is make you cry. Please. I'm not asking for all of it. Just… tell me what not to do."

His face dropped to her skin in a long kiss, and he prayed that he could give her his strength, even if only there, in that moment.

"Tighter," she said softly, and he tensed his arms, squeezing her impossibly hard against his chest. They stayed that way for a long moment, breathing in time, before she began to speak.