A/N: It begins here. Phase One.
"You needed that, didn't you?" he rhetorically whispers, leaning to Sam's left ear. His massive hand pushes her parted bangs out of her face, then travels to the back of her head to stroke her neck.
One squeeze; two squeezes.
One tug on short, curly strands; two squeezes.
The colonel breathes deeply, pleasure ruling through his body as he gauzes her reaction.
The captain produces a strangled whimper, her forehead pressing deeply into his abdomen. Her hand descends to the colonel's thighs, and he praises the high waters that he hasn't retrieved his leg pouches and additional belongings from the table yet so that she can fondle what she needs. Sam clutches the front of his thighs, fumbling the tight muscle.
It's more than the during the night at Secret Experience; it's similar, but there's something else to it now. At the armory before takeoff, years-to-decades of experience suggested to Jack that something didn't seem quite right with his captain. Never mind that they weren't quite matching attire as a team, but, in the long run, it better displayed who leads the group, and they've maneuvered around the SGC and at the joining NORAD facilities in all colors of the BDU sets.
That can't be it, right? Wouldn't that be irrational?
The SG-1 men know that their captain insists on keenness when it comes to being the front-line fortification of the planet. And, if you ask Jack, he'd say they're doing just that.
Beforehand (and still currently, for that matter), SG-1 didn't know much about planet 81-F6Q or its people besides its relationship with an original Race, so they flipped a coin to choose between a BDU set or Dress Blues/Sunday's Best. Teal'c flipped the coin because Jack, the money man, has familiarized him with Earth's currency when they're topside. So, the Big Guy was overly enthusiastic as he pulled a quarter from his pocket, which was his change from a corner-store run with his leader; the coin landed on 'heads' — BDU set — and the team was basically forced (re: willing, because they're just so caring to each other) to stand there as Sam sermonized on the probability factorials and other mathematic nonsense that went over their heads regarding the coin toss.
Jack softly tugs on his second-in-command's shorter strands, and the woman raises her head from his front. With a frown, he questions, "What's wrong?"
The blonde's eyes are closed, and she shakes her head in his hand. In earnest, she leans to reposition her head to its former location, already missing the contact.
Displeased with the lack of a verbal response, the senior soldier's grip tightens, and he tugs her head backward, this time with purpose.
Candidly, the captain is overstimulated.
Her senses are filled with Jack O'Neill, and she can't evade it; she can't escape him because he's her commanding officer, they're off-world, and — God, she's severely overwhelmed that it aches. Her ruse to restrain herself continues to fail, and she's never felt like this before about anyone or anything; consequently, she can't determine the theoretical elements of it. She comprehends the assumption that her recent behavior may equal something negative; she doesn't know how to communicate that it's the complete opposite. If the team was back Earthside, she doesn't know if she'd be competent to work alongside him.
Soldier Samantha Carter, the young theoretical astrophysicist, engineer, and pilot with one-hundred hours logged during the Gulf War and the brains of the SGC and Tau'ri planet, is currently incapable of anything because she desires her commanding officer.
How pathetic. (Though, is it?)
Her CO's grip on her hair immobilizes her. She emits a whine a bit too loudly, her eyes squeezed tightly, and her hands wandering to his plush waist.
Jack stealthily peeks over his left shoulder and then hauls her from the seat and out of the Decontamination room. He shields her from the eyes of the other persons in the room. On his way out, he says to the room, "Give us a moment."
Jack and Sam are in the connecting room, but the colonel doesn't consider the location to provide sufficient privacy. Instead, he uses his luck and opens a random door that seemingly leads to a barren corridor. He guides her through the door with a hand on her back, grazing her issued belt.
Sam's so far gone that she slightly stumbles and trips over her feet. She ambles into the corridor with no final destination, her eyes glazed and thoughts like a child's scribble. The colonel firmly grasps her arm, pulls her into a blind corner, and shoves her against the solid wall. She wheezes as her breath is forced from her lungs.
It doesn't help that Jack is right on her. Their bodies are joined belt-to-belt, and the warmth from his body transfers to hers. His brown eyes bore into her ray of blues, unblinking and astute.
She can't handle this. She'll go wild if you put numbers and doohickies before her; ask her to solve, provide her opinion, or fix this or that, and she'll gladly do it, free of charge. However, if you invite her to confront the person surrounding her underlying fulfillment, she'll decline and selfishly wish for an alien invasion. Come to think of it, she doesn't consider it to be a selfish act, even though her body is playing tricks with her.
What's that one saying — listen to your body, is it? Sam doesn't suppose she'll do that for the rest of the day (or night, if you're Earthside, depending on how you look at it). It's failed her and has put her into this unfaithful predicament.
"There's no-one but you and I," reassuringly begins Jack, gesturing around them. He continues, "I'll ask again: What's wrong?"
The captain balls her hands into fits and presses them to her temples, then frustratingly racks a hand through her mane. Her body can't remain stationary, and her legs buckle. She voices, "It doesn't matter. We're off-world, and I can't do anything about it. We've steered from regulation as it is."
Sam moves to return to the room with the remaining members of her team and Isteno, but Jack intensively plows her to the solid wall once again and presses his body to hers. He clinches her pale wrists in his brown ones and extends them from her body. From the position, his hands trail up her arms and seize her throat with his thumbs pawing under her chin.
There's no pressure behind the action; his hands sit there, and her arms clinch and unclench outside their bodies. He ganders outside their bodies and catches the movements of her hands.
"Touch me. I know you want to; I want you to," Jack softly speaks. He retreats to neutral mocking when she doesn't automatically take the bait. "Oh, c'mon, Samantha. At Secret Experiences, does that ring a bell? Don't back down now, now that we're finally alone. I'm right here."
Sam leans her head against the wall, shaking it. God, what is he doing to her? Alright, she'll bite. Slowly, she raises her hands to circle his waist and sits them there.
Ever the daredevil, the colonel lowers his hand from her throat to undo his belt buckle and pull his tucked shirt from his pants. "I'll do you one even better," he proclaims to her. He scrunches and twirls the bottom of his shirt and pulls it upwards to tuck it into the V-opening.
Everything is on display. The colonel's pants are hanging by his plush bottom and other secret goods. Holy Hannah.
He moves to her again, and his hands return to their position. He's ready. Is she?
The captain shudders, and she knows he felt it, too. Although she's tentative about touching his bare skin, she does so after a few beats, and the soldiers return to their stalemate. This isn't like with the Touched virus; this is real, and they're not under the influence.
One squeeze to the waist; one squeeze to the throat.
Sam grumbles as she tries to match his potency. Reassuringly, his thumbs caress under her chin, and she leans into the touch. A burning sensation rumbles deep within the captain, beginning in the pit of her stomach and trailing down.
"Touch me," repeats the colonel in a whisper; she does. The woman wants to be underneath him, like at Secret Experience and earlier in the Decontamination room.
"Down," single-worldly says Sam. Her vocal cords are hoarse from a lack of use and a restricted airway. She eases him backward and kneels, her hands grasping his thighs and her blue orbs on his brown ones; his undivided attention is on her.
This is it; this is them. He rises, and she descends.
This feels good; this feels like it was always supposed to happen.
Eyes unwavering, the blonde woman unhurriedly cants her head forward and briefly presses her lips to the senior soldier's transversus abdominis. Her hands travel up and down the man's leg, feeling weathered, grooved scars, then to the back of his legs.
Her influential hands, the same hands and ten fingers that continuously transform history and science, are mapping her commanding officer's body as she kneels before him. Except in this case, nothing is in their way, particularly not military ranks.
Jack tilts his head back in enjoyment, his right hand racking through the woman's mane.
The colonel and the captain don't exist; they're Jack and Sam.
Or are they?
Perhaps the captain deems to be a daredevil, too.
"Jack," she states with a kiss to the left side of his abdomen, though not as a question but as a known address. She's eyeing him for any reaction. "Jonah," she says next, and he quickly regards her with a silent, unknown expression, his hand in her hair seizing. Oh, boy. This time, she grips his thighs sharply, her short nails digging into his black cameos. She cants forward again, her shallow breaths brushing through the hair that leads to his secret goods. Sam licks her lips once and leans in, kissing the right side of his abdomen. "Jonathan," she whispers against his brown skin.
Swiftly, Jack bends forward, and his right-hand gropes her neck, forcibly tugging her to her feet. It's chaotic yet maintained, and as they're at center height, he plows her into the wall and clutches her throat, applying sufficient pressure. His other hand has a handful of her hair, and she can't breathe or move. It all feels delicious.
The captain releases a groan that echoes down the corridor, her pearly-whites clinching. She attempts to reciprocate, but her hands are trembling, her vision is blurring, her airway is restricted, and — goddamn, she feels like she's in Heaven.
"Quiet. Breathe slowly, in and out," commands Jack. The captain holds onto his shoulders for dear life, her hands squeezing his trapezius muscles in the best way possible. She does as instructed.
"I've always got you, Sam," promises Jack as he squeezes on one, two, and three. He feels her nod and does as ordered, and he exhales with a soft smile before lowering his head into her shoulder. Sam's right trail down his front and —
"Colonel O'Neill, Captain Carter, are you present?" comes a booming, low-registered voice from the entranceway. It's Teal'c, and from the sounds of it, Daniel and Isteno.
No need for a full-on search party, guys. Good grief.
The colonel quietly sucks his teeth at being interrupted. He looks at Sam with her head resting against the wall and silently transmits a message with a head shake.
"We're here. Just give us a second, preferably outside," responds Jack. He steps backward and begins to redress, scrutinizing Sam as she gathers her bearings.
Once she does, he delivers her a once-over, then sweetly tells her with his arms outstretched, "Come here."
She automatically steps into his embrace and rests her head on her shoulder. This time, his hand brushes soothingly over her hair, not through it.
"Are you OK?" he whispers into her ear.
The captain nods against him, tightening her hold around his body.
"When we get home, we'll talk," promises the colonel, and the captain snuggles deeper into his embrace.
This was different than last time, but they're on neutral ground.
They're OK.
Back in the Decontamination room, the remaining members of SG-1 and the Cyrian woman are patiently waiting for the arrival of the colonel and captain. The archaeologist has his leg pouch strapped to his leg, and the only belongings separated on the table belong to the two who reach the room.
The colonel and captain wordlessly trek to the table and reapplies their belongings to their being.
"Jonathan O'Neill and Captain Carter," begins Isteno, "welcome back. Now that the Tau'ri SG-1 is complete, our next activity is to meet with Q'uobik and Tommen. Please follow me to meet them."