For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
by ALC Punk!

Sam Carter shifted, staring deeper into the fire. It wasn't that she was ignoring Jack O'Neill. Colonel. Always Colonel. The fire was just more interesting. Something she could focus on that was visceral. The woods were silent, the stars above shining brightly. She didn't want to think about the refractive properties of the atmosphere as being better, here.

"Hey." His shoulder nudged her.

She shot a swift glance around the fire, but the others weren't paying attention. Daniel was sketching words in the air with his hands as he talked about the pyramids to Michael (who looked not exactly thrilled but at least interested), Teal'c was meditating calmly with Jenny across from him, the two lost in their own little mystical world of tension-release. This wasn't the SGC. There weren't gossips who would spread the tale far and wide if the Captain and the Colonel had a private conversation.

"Carter."

He wasn't going to go away.

Damn. "I was just thinking about how this all could work. Or not work."

Which was a lie, but if he knew it, he didn't call her on it. "We'll get back, Carter." A look at him proved that his lips were curving in their customary smirk. "Even you can't want to be stuck during the sexual revolution."

"Thanks, sir." Her voice was dry.

"C'mon." He stood and held out a hand. "Let's go wander off and see the stars."

She sighed. "I'd rather--"

"Carter."

"Fine." She took his hand and let him pull her up, a little disconcerted when he continued the motion until she was against his chest. "Uh... Jack?"

Without responding, he turned, clipped a hand under her elbow and started walking. She followed his lead without question as she had countless times on missions and in battle. This was no different than being off world, she tried to remind herself. No different than traveling through the wormhole to a hundred thousand different destinations.

The trees swished softly in the breeze that flowed through this small stretch of land. Someone who Michael's cousin knew had told them about this small strip, perfect for camping out. SG-1 had been happy to fly under the radar in this time, and so camping out (while irritatingly akin to being off world on their own planet) had been a simple compromise to make. And the trees were nice trees, full of rich loamy smells that were comforting in the small hours of the night.

"So what's really bothering you?"

An owl hooted nearby, and Sam could have sworn it was a malicious sound. She glanced back towards the fire, then looked left and spotted the silent hulk of the bus.

"Sam?" The hand under her elbow slipped down and his arm wrapped around her waist.

"Today is dad's birthday."

He stilled.

Sam knew he couldn't see it, but she shot him a half-smile and stepped away, heading off into the forest away from the bus and the fire and their friends. Suddenly, she wanted to be away from all of it. Responsibility, teamwork, fate, destiny. All of it meant nothing, right now.

"Carter?"

He was close enough to touch again, and she stopped, leaning against the nearest tree. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as he stopped in front of her so very close she could see his eyes glittering in the darkness.

"Dad would be dead right now if you -- WE -- hadn't given him this choice."

"It doesn't make it easier to know that I sentenced him to a life that's not his just so he wouldn't die -- wouldn't leave me." Her words were vicious in tone and intent, and she wasn't sure if it were him or her she most wanted to rend with them.

Jack (she can't think of him as the Colonel in this world of dark forests and late night fires that isn't real because they're 30 years in the past) stepped closer, one hand coming up to rest against the tree trunk next to her head. "Sam, you can't hate yourself for giving him a chance to live."

"Why not? You do."

The breath in his body stilled.

"It's true, isn't it." Her tone is still vicious, her words choppy but certain. "Jolinar -- me, you. All of it changed because of her. Because I let a parasite invade my body. And now you can't see me as just me anymore. I'm me and her. And you hate that."

"Yes." The word hissed out.

"I can't get rid of her. Ever. She will always be something that's a part of me. I can hate her or love her or be indifferent to her." Sam stepped away from the tree, and he flinched as she brought them into full-body contact. "But I don't want you to hate me anymore. I'm tired of it."

She moved around him, suddenly tired. Only three steps and he caught her arm, spinning her around. She didn't give him a chance to say anything, but he wasn't going to anyway, and the first kiss was a clash of teeth and lips and nearly broken noses.

Then her arms were around him, her hands clutching at the hair on his head as if she could climb inside of him and that would make it all better.

It was frightening how much she wanted this, she thought about that as he backed her into a tree. She wanted him, craved his hands on her skin and his lips on hers. It wasn't a matter of love. She didn't feel love for this man. There was, simply, need. He was there, and he would understand (Daniel never would, and she couldn't even think of asking this of Teal'c). Or so she hoped.

A short time later, she was whimpering as very sure fingers slid across her breasts. She knew there were reasons this was wrong. And, normally, her mind could catalogue, imprint, report and recite regulations at the drop of a hat.

The lips on her neck stilled. "You're thinking too much."

"I--" There was a controlled violence in the way his lips closed on hers. Almost as if he wanted to obliterate everything but the way she tasted. He tasted of soup and bad coffee and smelled like firewood and sweat. She understood, suddenly. He needed this as much as he did.

A heady thought, and it shattered the last of her restraint, making her shift closer, pressing against him.

He was hard and ready against her, but she knew she wasn't.

As if the thought was a command, he was moving, sliding down her body to kneel at her feet. His hands went up her skirt, and Sam suddenly remembered why wearing a skirt was the best thing in the world. She grabbed the folds he handed her and leaned against the tree for stability.

Kisses. Butterfly kisses. He dotted them up and down her legs, pausing here and there. At one point, he nuzzled around the back of her knee, making her sigh. His hands followed his lips, gliding and touching as if he could learn the shape of her legs that way. She wondered if this same concentration was what had made him good at special ops. Then she wasn't thinking at all.

When his mouth opened and sucked on her inner thighs, teeth and stubble grazing, she wondered if he were doing this on purpose. Dragging it out until she would beg him to touch her.

Then he slid her underwear down her legs, and she found her thoughts splintering incoherently before he'd even slid his tongue along her.

And when he did, her legs gave out.

It seemed unfair that this man (although she supposed it could be any man) could do *this* to her, make her break into a thousand pieces under dim starlight, her breath ragged with unshed screams and tears. He held her as she slowly folded, sliding his fingers easily in and stretching out the aftershocks until she curled at the base of the tree, her head back against it.

He continued working his fingers inside of her, in and out and she had to bite her lip to stifle a moan. "Jack."

"Feel better?"

"Not enough." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Lay down."

She wanted to object when he took his hand away, but she knew there was something rather larger (and much more suited to the task -- which made her giggle internally at the silliness of the phrase). Jack stretched on his back, looking at her.

His jeans unzipped easily, and she had him in her hands a moment later, stroking and admiring the length she'd uncovered. He stopped her before she could contemplate tasting him, hand reaching out and grabbing her arm. "Straddle me."

It was an order she was perfectly willing to comply with, hitching up her skirt and settling over him. She paused above him, staring down at his expectant look.

There was something strange about this, almost ancient and pagan. She, felt, suddenly, like a goddess coming to rest on earth (or maybe an earth-goddess. She could ask Jenny about it later. And then maybe drink enough alcohol to rid her brain of the sudden poetic turn of her thoughts). Here, now, in this dark wood, she was going to fuck Jack O'Neill's brains out.

"Carter--" His words turned into a low moan as she slid down onto him, taking him in fully. The sensation made her eyes close for a moment.

Then she began moving, watching his face as she rose and fell. Flexing her inner muscles (raggedly and without much success at first. It had been much too long since her last lover), which made him gasp. His hands reached for her and she caught them with her own, threading their fingers together and pushing against his grip to steady herself.

He came unexpectedly, and she ground down onto him, trying to make it that much better for him. If the groan he let out (softly, of course, too much noise could attract unwanted attention) was anything to go by, she'd helped.

There was cold ground and at least one stick under her legs. She hadn't noticed the discomfort until now, but it impinged on her as she stared down at her commanding officer. His hands tugged at hers, and she tilted her head to look at his eyes. "Hey."

"Hey." His voice was almost hoarse. "You didn't--"

"I wasn't... expecting to."

He grunted and pushed his hips upwards, catching her by surprise. One of his hands released hers and he reached between them. As before, he seemed to know exactly how to touch her and before she could form any sort of protest he was circling her clitoris, teasing gently, then backing off. Just enough pressure here, sliding just *there*. And she couldn't do anything but straddle him, half fallen forward onto his chest as her hips reacted, trying to get him closer.

When his fingers slid inside of her, she let out a soft moan. And then he was tugging her closer, pulling her mouth to his and applying more pressure, and suddenly she didn't care *who* heard her. So it was a damn good thing he had his mouth on hers and his tongue sliding in.

It was less intense, this time, but she didn't notice, more interested in the taste of him and the feel of him. And the way the stars turned in the sky.

She was thinking again.

His fingers eventually slowed and slid away leaving her feeling tingly and achy at the same time. "Ah, Carter."

"The ground is hard." She guessed, slowly beginning to move off of him, strangely bereft of connection even before she was kneeling next to him.

"Yeah." He winced and moved into a sitting position, eyeing his lap. "Uh, don't--"

She handed him the rather large handkerchief she'd had around her neck. "Here."

"Thanks." He cleaned himself off, then carefully zipped and buttoned his fly. She watched, finding something strangely erotic in the movements. Either that or she was still really hard up.

She silently took the cloth back from him and cleaned herself off, suddenly glad that she was wearing a large skirt. Her underwear was somewhere on the ground nearby, and she stood to pull it on, grateful that it wasn't cold and clammy. She started to say something, then stopped, uncertain.

"It's ok." He was standing again, leaning against a tree across from her.

She couldn't call him sir. Not after riding him in the middle of a copse of trees. The embarrassment hit her, and she looked away. "Uh..."

"I don't hate you for Jolinar."

"Ah."

His hand touched her wrist. "C'mon, we should go back."

-=-

"Captain Carter."

Sam was sitting next to Teal'c as he drove, the rest of the occupants asleep. She'd been thinking about her actions of the night before and wondering if there could have been a different outcome. If there was any way she could have stopped herself from having sex with her commanding officer.

"Hrm?" She said, not really paying attention.

"You seem disturbed."

"Didn't sleep well."

He inclined his head, "You trouble yourself with deep thoughts."

"Something like that."

"Is it not the way of the Tau'ri to take comfort where you may?"

She blinked, focusing on the road, then shot a sideways glance at him. He couldn't possibly mean what she thought he did. "Comfort?" Oh, good. Her voice didn't squeak.

"Yes." Teal'c turned his eyes from the road for a moment, and Sam suddenly knew. She didn't know how, and she didn't care. But he knew exactly what she'd done (well, maybe not down to a play by play) with Jack O'Neill the night before.

"Uh, Teal'c, that--" she was going to babble.

"Captain Carter. Among the jaffa, sharing comfort and life is a good thing."

"Oh." She closed her mouth and turned back to the road. "It's.. just..."

"Daniel Jackson has explained the many rules that the Tau'ri are governed by." There was a pause, almost as if he was suddenly unsure of what he would say.

"Oh?"

"I do not believe there is anything wrong. Therefore, I will not be mentioning..."

She listened to his silence for a few minutes before reaching over and touching his shoulder. "Thank you."

"As I am sure you would do the same for me."

Her lips twitched. "I'm sure I would."

Teal'c returned his full attention to the road, and Sam glanced back into the bus. And found Jack watching her. She tipped her head to the side, then settled back facing the front.

If nothing else, this was going to be a long vacation.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!