Sugar and Spice and All Things... Nice?
by ALC Punk!

Which was okay, because Jack was buried inside Sam Carter, and she was biting her lip with her eyes dark as she stared at him. He thrust inwards again and she gave a grunt of satisfaction.

They hadn't meant to do this -- well, he hadn't meant to. But she'd arrived wearing leather pants (definitely a turn-on), and she'd looked so cute while breaking the eggs (and losing the shells in the bowl, which made her curse in goa'uld). And then she'd turned to him while he poured the chocolate chips and told him that Pete was gone, that she thought, maybe, that she loved him. And what was he doing Friday night?

After they'd picked up the spilled chocolate chips and put a batch of cookies in the oven, he trapped her against the counter and kissed her.

She tasted like sugar and butter with a hint of almond and vanilla (damn cookie-dough thief). Then she was kissing him back, pushing against him. And his resolve went right out the door (ok, maybe it was the way her leather pants creaked or the way she sucked his tongue into her mouth, or maybe the way she dragged his hand up her shirt and whimpered when he stroked a thumb across her nipple).

But he'd made himself pull away, stepped back from her. "Carter--"

"Jack."

Damn, but he'd waited a long time to hear her call him that. "I--we--"

"I want you. Maybe it's stupid, maybe it's pathetic, but--"

"Why now?" He couldn't help the harshness in his voice any more than he could help the way his cock was already stiff inside his pants. She'd worn leather on purpose.

"Because."

"It's that simple?"

"Yup." She drew in a breath, the sound ragged in the silent kitchen. "Unless you'd rather I go."

"No." He definitely didn't want that. And, suddenly, he didn't care how far she had expected this to go, how far HE had ever wanted it to go. Right here and now there were no rules and regulations, and Sam Carter was standing in his kitchen in leather pants.

"Okay." Her tongue slipped out and she wet her lips. "Now what?"

He just stared at her until she stepped towards him. And the timer beeped.

They spent a few minutes dealing with hot cookies and emptying the sheets and putting more in before she turned and he cornered her against the counter again.

This time, he didn't pull back.

So now he knew what Sam Carter tasted like, how she moaned and whimpered when he slid his fingers in just *there*, and how she felt around him as she came.

And how she looked sprawled on his counter with her legs wrapped around his waist.

Which was almost as good as how she looked in leather pants bent over his stove. She sat up and looped her arms around his neck, tightening her inner muscles. Her lips brushed his jaw. He pulled out and thrust in again, listening to the hitch in her breathing.

"The cookies."

"Yup." He methodically concentrated. Just -- there.

A soft groan escaped her, "Jack, the--"

His mouth closed on her shoulder and his teeth bit down. She yelped, back arching. And it was all that he had needed. New angle, harsher thrust, and he was breaking inside of her, body aching and throbbing at once as she growled softly.

"--cookies." She whispered against his neck.

He sagged, hanging onto her and the counter. "I should sit down."

"Yeah." She was breathless.

Heh. Some part of him was pointing out that there were lots of reasons that this was a bad thing. But on the whole, he didn't care right now. He'd made Carter breathless, plus naked. That equaled a lot of good in his book.

"Jack?"

"Hrm?"

A hand stopped stroking his back and poked at him. "I thought you were sitting down so I could get the cookies."

"They're burnt," he pointed out.

"Yes, but starting a kitchen fire could be bad."

He sighed. "Fine." Pulling back and disengaging from her arms was strangely easy. "But we're baking more."

An eyebrow arched at him, and he could have sworn that was an evil smirk on her lips. "I certainly hope so." And then she slid off the counter, arching slightly and stretching.

And Jack forgot about the cookies.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!