She was lying in bed, he was standing between her and the dresser, his back was to her and he was breathing deeply. She knew he was attempting to collect himself. Because, in the moment before he turned around, she'd caught sight of yet another very impressive erection that had sent heat and wetness flooding to her center. It had been like this since they'd gotten back together, not that she'd really expected anything different. The time before their split had its own share of sexual issues, but these were beginning to bloom large.
She was torn. Previously, she'd said nothing and that had seemed fine with him. She'd allowed him to hide his physical reactions to her, or to thoughts of her – or, for that matter, for all she knew, thoughts of other things. They'd both ignored it as if it weren't happening. But that didn't seem to be helping. But seeing the way he turned away from her, the way he visibly vibrated with the tension of collecting himself, gave her the impression that words from her, even supportive ones, would be unwelcome.
In truth, she was dealing with her own issues. She was dealing with a level of sexual desire that she'd never encountered before. He was fine with kissing and touching and they did that regularly. To the point that she'd be so turned on she could feel the wetness against her clothing, and, at times, she could smell her arousal – which she only found embarrassing because apparently she was far more ramped up than they were taking things. But where she was being left hot and bothered – and to take things into her own hands – he didn't seem to mind the build up and sudden stop. No, a few labored breaths and he was willing to let those truly impressive erections deflate on their own. Shame, really, she thought.
When Jack turned around this time, though, his eyes were dark, his nostrils flared, and, when her eyes dropped to the front of his jockey shorts, she was rewarded with the obscene outline of said impressive erection, and she'd give him one thing – while he generally ignored them he didn't hide them. Though, she usually turned her gaze away fairly quickly. On this night, she didn't. She looked her fill. She let her eyes drift up his body, over his chest – she loved his chest with its smattering of greying chest hair – to his dark eyes. They were searching hers.
He walked over to the bed and climbed in next to her. She hesitated to curl up next to him as she did every night, afraid that her lascivious look would be taken as a come on if she were to touch him. He reached for her and hauled her into his body, curling his arm around her, situating her into place, pulling her thigh up over his.
"I want to talk to you," he said gruffly, his voice thick with something she'd have called arousal under normal circumstances.
"Okay," she said unsurely.
"We need to talk about this," he pulled her thigh higher up until it brushed against his erection.
"Oh." She instantly felt bad for the way she'd been looking at him, feeling as if she'd been putting pressure on him. "I need to apologize to you."
"What? Why?" He shook his head. "I was going to apologize to you."
"But I'm the one who's putting pressure on you-"
"No, you're not. But maybe you should be. You deserve to be."
"Jack-"
"Sam, it's been a month. And I still can't... I want to, and I've tried, when I'm alone, but it doesn't... I can't..." He shook his head again and swore lowly, "Fuck."
She moved to sit up, but he held her in place, like looking her in the eye while they talked about this might be too much. "I'm glad you're trying. I was worried that you didn't. That you wouldn't."
"For all the good it's done."
"It might take some time, for things to get back to normal. That's okay. You can't rush it. And a lot of orgasm is mental, too. So if you're overthinking it, or if you're still dealing with what she did to you... Jack, there's a lot of things working against you here." And she couldn't help but think that maybe he was putting way too much pressure on himself if he was going at it alone. Just him, by himself, with the end goal being orgasm... that was a lot of pressure. Maybe if it wasn't about that. "What if..." But she didn't know how to offer to help without it sounding self-serving.
"What?"
She shook her head against his chest, smoothed her hand over the skin, her fingers tangling in his chest hair.
"Anyway, something occurred to me."
"Yeah?"
"You."
"Me?"
"I've been selfish. And what's going on with me... it's no reason for you to suffer."
"I'm not suffering."
He didn't say anything, he just tightened his hold on her. Slowly, his hold on her began to change. The hand that was holding her thigh in place over his erection lightened and began stroking her soft skin, and his other hand curled over around her shoulders and over her arm began to draw circles on her upper arm. She felt her skin begin to tingle in the wake of his caresses.
So far, he hadn't touched her any differently than he had ever before, though, so she wasn't sure exactly what to read into this situation. And then the hand on her thigh wandered up into her shorts to stroke her backside. He toyed with the elastic edge on her lace panties. It made the tingling intensify. She shifted against him, opening her legs infinitesimally, instinctually.
"What do you think about?" He asked her, huskily.
"Hmm?" She asked, distracted by the feel of his fingers inside her shorts.
"When you take care of yourself... do you think about me?"
"Oh," she breathed. "Yes." She bit her lip with the admission. Heat flared in her face, though she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was hers now, fantasizing about him was entirely allowed.
"So, what do you think about?"
She felt nervousness war with desire in her belly. She wasn't a shy woman when it came to sex, but how did she tell her former commanding officer exactly what it was that was getting her off these days? It wasn't exactly a situation in which he was in command...
"Is it my hands?" he asked her. He dipped his fingers into the heated space between her legs, let his fingertips play over the moistening lace. But she made no move, no sound, to encourage him. "No," he decided.
And to confirm, she shook her head against his chest.
With a quick move, he had her on her back and he was situated between her legs. "Do you want to be filled? Have you thought about how, right now, I could go as long you wanted?" They were forehead to forehead and he raised his head so he could look her in the eye. She knew her expression was pained because she'd never use him like that. He gave her a sad smile. "No, not that either, then." But he still pressed his hips between her legs so she could feel the full extent of his erection against her now very interested clit and it made her hiss at the contact.
"So, it's my mouth then." He smirked at her. She could tell he wanted to say something about their ranks, but that he was holding back in an attempt to keep from embarrassing her. He dropped his mouth down to hers and kissed her soundly. His lips worked over hers until she whimpered with how it wasn't enough and he opened to her. She immediately sought his tongue with her own.
She loved his mouth, was it any wonder that it was her fantasy? His irreverent mouth. She'd watched and listened to it work for years now that she had carte blanche to fantasize about him, she wanted his mouth on her, his head between her legs, and he – despite the things that had happened to him – had an innate ability to suss that out.
He pulled his mouth from hers and trailed his hot tongue along her jaw and down her neck. She squirmed against him, felt the hard ridge of his penis against the rapidly dampening material of her shorts, before he pulled away to move down her body so he could tongue her breast through the cotton of her tank top. Her nipple beaded up against his tongue despite the barrier of the now sodden fabric and he bit down gently and then with more pressure on to hardened nub until she threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled him away.
He pushed himself up until he was kneeling between her knees. His eyes flickered to the wet spot of material over her breast and then down between her legs where she knew she was wet too. She wondered if she was wet enough for him to see. He reached out then, and with a knuckle, traced the seam of her shorts up the center of her. The contact made her jump; the movement made him smile.
With his big hands, long fingers, he pushed at her top until it was gathered beneath her breasts and her belly was exposed. He stroked at her skin until her breath became labored and then he pushed her shirt higher until she was forced to sit up and take it off. She flopped back down onto the bed, topless, her shirt grasped in one hand, the other hand falling over one breast as if to shield herself from his view. All she ended up doing was kneading her own flesh and taking some of the already heady ache away.
He grunted at the sight of her hand on her own body and soon he was peeling her shorts and underwear down her legs, scooting back on the bed as he worked until he could pull them off entirely. It left him sitting between her feet with a view right down her spread legs. She was suddenly self conscious, though she didn't really know why. She'd known where this was going, and having him look was a lot less intimate than where she knew they were going next.
So she shored herself up, bend her knees, and planted her feet on the bed, opening herself to him. He went momentarily slack jawed. "Colonel?" she asked in a sultry tone she didn't know she had in her.
His eyes flickered up to hers and she noticed how the rich brown had melted into black. "Don't move, Major," he said, his command voice firmly in place. It caused goosebumps to break out over her skin.
"Yes, sir." she purred.
He arched an eyebrow at her as he tucked himself down between her legs, his shoulders pressing up against the underside of her thighs. The first swipe of his tongue nearly brought her up off the bed. He curled an arm up around her hip and flattened his hand on her belly, she reached down and buried a hand in his hair.
God, it had been so long since someone else had touched her, it was electrifying. His tongue flicked at her clit first and then fluttered at her entrance, before dragging her moisture up to circle fast and strong around her clit again. She continued to knead at her breasts with the hand that wasn't clutching at his hair. He was relentless. Just when it got to be too much, too intense, and she was squirming away from his tongue at her little bundle of nerves, he was moving back down to lap at her opening.
When that wasn't enough, he went back to flicking his tongue over her the most sensitive part of her as he slid first one finger and then two deep inside her. He stroked her once, twice, three times deeply before catching the spot that made her hips arch off the bed. He sucked at her clit as he massaged that spot. She mewled with pleasure, her voice high and keening, but she couldn't control it for the sensations he was creating. This was so much better than what she had been able to do for herself.
He took her to the edge once, twice and then, just when she thought she was going to have to kill him, she felt herself approach the precipice of pleasure and with a deep breath, he sucked her into his mouth one final time. She shattered underneath him on a sob of pleasure. Her fingers tightened in his hair to the point it must have been painful but he didn't relent. She felt herself flood with fluid around his fingers but he just continued to stroke her gently.
When it was over, she felt completely wrung out. Her fingers were cramped in his hair as she worked to release him. He was looking up at her from between her legs and stroking her lower belly with his dry fingers. The wet fingers she could still feel between her legs, only still and curled into a fist against her.
"How do you feel?"
"That was..." She had no words. She beckoned him up her body and he came willinging, sliding his body along her hypersensitive one. She kissed him long and deep, reveling in the taste of herself on his tongue, so intimate.
"I think I can sleep now," he said. "You?"
"Hmm," she moaned. "Definitely." Her eyes drifted shut as she felt him situate himself on his side of the bed. Through her eyelids she saw the light go out. Her eyes flew open. "Wait a minute. We still need to talk about-"
"Tomorrow," he said gently. "Tonight should have been about you."
"Tomorrow," she promised.
She curled up against him, her naked breasts feeling so sensitive against his bare skin, and went to sleep.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Throughout the next day Jack was on a sort of high from having touched her the way he had and yet he had a deep feeling of trepidation that he'd done something he wasn't supposed to have done. He had no idea where such a feeling came from because if it was his mother fucking programming then all he'd done was give pleasure. And that should be all right. Still, he felt equal parts proud for doing what he was supposed to have done as her man and weak for feeling like there was some reason he shouldn't have done it in the first place.
It made his whole day go a little off kilter. He found that he focused just fine on his tasks but that his mood wasn't great and that the kids got the sharp side of his tongue more often than was probably strictly necessary. He had a reputation for being a bit of a hardnose, but he was pretty sure he'd be the talk over chow that night.
He thought a lot about her and how she was feeling that day. He wasn't naïve enough to think it was the first release she'd had since they'd been together but he liked to think that it was one of the better ones and that she'd been reminiscing throughout the day. He hoped she was looking forward to the next time he put his hands on her, even if he did think he was going to have to psych himself up for it.
But by the time they both made it home from work, it was getting on past dark and they were both a little wrung out and dinner was rushed and dishes were washed perfunctorily and getting into bed was done by rote. And to top it off, he'd carried work to bed with him for the first time that he could remember. Of course, he'd never really been a paperwork guy, but now he had files upon files that required his review. And he was behind.
He propped himself up in bed and slid his glasses on before flipping the file open in his lap. She let him work for about five minutes during which she seemed to lie next to him and just watch him.
But then she sidled up next to him. "Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you need to do that right now?"
He snuffled then peered over his glasses at her. "What? Oh. No." He set the folder aside and gave her a smile. It could wait, especially if she had something on her mind.
She reached up and divested him of his glasses and leaned over him to put them on his nightstand. "I think we owe each other a conversation."
He frowned at her a little, prepared to argue. He wasn't sure he wanted to get into it tonight, not what she had in mind. Not a conversation about what had happened to him. Again.
She leaned up and kissed him soundly. When she pulled away he followed her with his head, his lips staying with hers until the last possible moment. "I promise you want to talk to me."
"After everything I've already said, I can honestly say there's nothing I wouldn't talk to you about, but Sam, what's left to talk about?"
"Well," she said with a pragmatic tone, "a lot. You still haven't told me exactly what you dream about, but I'm willing to wait, especially since you seem to be doing better with that."
"Because of you," he said quietly and reached for her hand.
She flushed under his praise but continued, "And I still don't know exactly what Astarte did to you once she took you out of the cell where you were drugged with Sokar's Blood. Aside from-"
"Right," he said cutting her off.
"And I'm willing to wait until you're ready to talk about it, all of it. But we need to talk about the part that's affecting you right now. The part that's affecting us."
"The fact that I can't..." He gestured helplessly at his groin.
"Orgasm," she supplied.
He pulled a face. "Yeah."
"I don't need to be able to to keep you satisfied."
"No," she said, "you don't. But I want you to be satisfied too. I have a vested interest in your satisfaction."
"Sam, I may not ever be able to-"
"I don't believe that. I do believe it's matter of, for lack of a better term, reprogramming you. We have to teach you that it's okay for you to feel that pleasure. And that it's okay for the pleasure to reach its natural culmination."
"I know that."
"I think that you do," she said gently. "I'm just not sure you really believe it." She smoothed her hand down his arm and took his hand in hers. "She did powerful things to your head, first with the Blood of Sokar when she broke you down until you didn't care about anything and then later with other substances and however else she did it until you believed what she told you about you being her tool, Jack. But you're not. You're nobody's tool. You're a man and you deserve all the same pleasures you give so freely.
"The way you made me feel when you touched me... I want you to feel that way, too. When you touch yourself, yes, and when I touch you, too. And I can't help but think that maybe... maybe letting me touch you is how you get over this hurdle."
His eyes, which had been on their hands, flew up to hers. "You want to..."
"Yes."
"Why?" She wanted to touch his broken dick? To what end? How fun could that be for her?
"Because I think it really is mind over matter. And I think knowing that I want to give you pleasure will help you find the release you can't find on your own."
"Because she didn't want to give me pleasure..."
"But I do."
"I can't make you any promises." Was he really going to agree to this?
"I'm not asking for any."
"How do you want to do this?" Apparently he was.
"Well, first of all, you could try to sound a little less like you're getting ready for a root canal," she said with a small smile. "And I thought we'd start by doing the same things we usually do to turn you on."
"You turn me on," he said huskily. "Just by being you."
She flushed prettily but she advanced on him predatorially. She moved to kiss him and he opened his lips to receive her, but first she flicked her tongue out and licked at his top lip. Okay, that was good. He was very interested in that. He reached for her waist, pulled her into him as much as she'd let him, but she was in control of the kiss. He didn't mind. She was doing a damn good job of nipping at his lips and then soothing them with her tongue then pulling at his lips with hers. She was a good kisser. A really good kisser. He liked that about her.
Too soon, though, she moved on from his lips to trail hers along his jaw, to tongue that spot behind his ear that always revved him up. She nipped at that place on his neck that always made him make that embarrassing sound she liked. She ran her hands across his chest, rubbed her thumbs over his tightened nipples, and suddenly the sensations were all too much for his body and he realized he was hard. Not getting hard, not a little hard, but hard and ready and thinking about what it would be like to slide inside her warm and willing body. But he was pretty sure that wasn't where she was going with things this night. It was nice to have that thought, though, considering he hadn't really seriously considered it before, despite dating her for more than a month.
She let her hands trail down his body. He tensed when she got near his groin but not because he was afraid of being touched but because he was ready to be touched. She bypassed his erection, though, to skim her fingers along his thighs. She toyed with the edges of his jockey shorts and the hair on his thighs. She kissed him again as her fingers slid up under the cotton of his shorts and bunching the fabric up until her fingers could stroke at his hip. Her tongue stroked at his.
She pulled her hand out of his shorts and her delicate fingers drifted over the front of his shorts, lightly dancing across his erection, giving him no relief whatsoever. She teased him for long moments, continuing to kiss him deeply until, in the moment just before he thought he was going to lose it, she stroked downward with the palm of her hand from the tip of his cock to the base, applying delicious pressure through his shorts to his needy hard-on. He groaned into her mouth. God that felt good.
She stroked him through the cotton until he felt himself begin to leak precum that made the fabric uncomfortable. "Sam," he mumbled against her mouth. He moved to push his own shorts off and she looked down and noticed his predicament and what he was attempting. She helped him off with his shorts and then, god help him, blinked slowly and hummed her approval at the sight of him, hard and heavy, dick lying against his belly.
His tip was shiny with his own fluid and she reached out to touch with one fingertip, swirling the clear fluid over the head of his cock. He grunted with pleasure. Guilt stabbed through him. He tamped it back down. This woman was giving him a gift, damn it, he was damn well going to take it. She wrapped her entire hand around him and squeezed gently. His eyes rolled back in his head and his head dropped back onto the headboard.
He felt her moving on the bed so he opened his eyes and watched as she moved to straddle his thighs. It was odd, a little, to see her sitting there in her pajamas while he sat naked in front of her, aroused and on display, his erection in her hand, but at the same time, it felt... fine. This was Sam. Sam was safe.
He watched as she lifted her free hand to her mouth and licked her palm. Oh, he knew what was coming. And he was looking forward to it. She reached for his dick and with her lubricated hand she began to pump him slowly. He lost the battle with his eyes and head again and ended up looking at the inside of his eyelids with his head tipped back against the headboard. He wanted to watch her work, oh how he did, but the sensations she was creating were incredible. It wasn't that it had been so very long since he'd had another woman's hands on him, but it hadn't felt like this with Laira, he wasn't afraid to admit to himself.
She stroked him confidently for long moments. He felt himself puddle into the pleasure but still the feelings of guilt warred with the feelings of euphoria until it became clear to them both that he'd reached a plateau of pleasure that he wasn't going to crest. It began to frustrate him and he started to fidget under her hands.
"Jack, it's okay," she said soothingly.
"It's not that it doesn't feel great," he said. He gestured at his dick and the precum that he kept producing proving he was interested – very interested – in what she was doing.
"I know. You've got to let go."
"I'm trying."
"You have nothing to feel guilty about," she told him. "You've done nothing wrong. You deserve this pleasure. You're a good man, Jack," she said the last reverently and while looking into his eyes. And then, she leaned over and took him wholly into her mouth.
"Shit," he bit out, having not been altogether prepared for the sensation of her hot, wet mouth around his oversensitive cock. She laved him with her tongue and then sucked at him gently, never putting any painful sort of pressure on him, apparently aware that at this point he was oversensitive. She flicked her tongue against the weeping slit at his tip and his hips rose off the bed. "Sam," he gasped her name, over and over.
She hummed around his dick as if sucking him off was giving her as much pleasure as it was giving him, and boy was it giving him pleasure. He'd gotten a lot of blow jobs in his life but he didn't remember them feeling like this, he didn't remember ever feeling so sensitive. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd come.
Suddenly, like it snuck up on him, he felt the tingle in his balls that signaled impending ejaculation. He didn't quite believe it, though. However, many years and many lovers had taught him many lessons and he touched the back of her head. "Sam," he warned, "I think..."
"Go ahead," she said, and resumed sucking at his rock-hard member.
It didn't take much more than that and he felt the way his balls contracted, he remembered the sensation as it rushed through his body, the feeling of complete and utter release and euphoria as it centered in his cock and rushed into her mouth – he came. All that pent up desire, emptied into her willing mouth. And she held steady there, one hand on his thigh as he jerked under her, until he was done.
He watched, transfixed and a little turned on even still, as she swallowed him down. Then she turned her face to him and smiled. "And you were worried."
He smiled back at her, boneless and wrung out. "Can't imagine why."
"Think you can sleep now?" She asked him, reminiscent of the night before.
"Yeah. You?"
"I think I'm going to sleep very well."
"Me too."
When he woke up the next morning he realized he hadn't dreamed.