Closer to... the Beach
by ALC Punk!

The words came from overhead, and Sam Carter didn't bother opening an eye as the owner of the voice stood and blocked her sunlight. "I like orange."

"But black is so--"

"Cliche." She replied.

Jack O'Neill huffed slightly, then flopped onto the blanket next to her thereby removing the shade from her oiled skin. "You take all of the fun out of everything, doncha."

"I don't recall you complaining about the lack of fun this morning." "That's different."

"Uh-huh."

"Really," he insisted, his hand reaching out to idly trace her skin.

"We're on the beach." She informed him as the finger tugged on the strap of her swimsuit.

"Noticed that, Carter."

She eyed the way the finger slid down and brushed the top of her breast; couldn't quite repress the shudder of awareness that flared through her. "Jack."

"What?" He looked completely innocent. The finger continued toying with her skin.

"Ice cream." It was cold. It could be useful against the heat his fingers were beginning to raise in her skin. It wasn't always like this, but the combination of sun and sea and warm breeze were intoxicating. And Jack knew exactly what his fingers were invoking as he trailed a hand down her arm.

"What about it?"

"Could be--" She let out a soft gasp as a finger grazed a nipple. "Nice."

"So it is." There was something devilish in the way he was watching her. And dark. And, oh, dear god, he was going to do this here and now.

"There are--"

His lips descended on hers and his hand trailed down her stomach to dip between her legs. And, as he'd done that morning, he slid his fingers down and touched her just. there. Her back arched in reaction and the moan she let out slid into his mouth. Then he was kissing his way down her neck.

"Jack..." Her mind went off-track when his finger slid underneath the elastic of her bikini. Anticipation of exactly what that finger might do left her panting slightly.

"Hrm?"

She arched again, trying to get him to do what his teasing was promising. The lips trailing along her skin smirked. "Don't make me hurt you, Jack O'Neill."

"Now why would you do that, Carter?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her head to glare at him, "Because--" Her breath cut off as two fingers slid into her. The strangled moan that escaped her contained at least one curse.

A chuckle against her skin and then he pulled back slightly to watch her lazily as his fingers began sliding in and out oh. so. slowly. It was too much and not enough at once, and she was past caring that this was a public beach and that other people might notice. Although there hadn't been anyone in their area for a long time. "Ja-ack." She was whining. She didn't care.

His free hand strayed to tease her breasts, rolling the nipples through the fabric of her bikini top.

The rhythm of his fingers altered, becoming faster. She moaned, bit her lip, then moaned again as he shifted slightly. His wrist might cramp, but she wasn't sure she cared.

"I certainly hope you're enjoying this vacation, Carter," His tone was conversational if a little breathless. "Sun, sand, sea, nothing but empty space for miles and miles." The pace quickened. "No reports due, no desks to empty, no underlings to frighten with barked orders."

Who knew a man saying inane mundane things was sexy? Sam Carter groaned. "More."

That smirk was back.

A third finger slid into her and it was exactly what she'd needed. With a strangely garbled growl she came, body stiffening and arching up for that last stroke before riding out waves of pleasure. The fingers began to slow as her spasms lessened until she was laying there, the fingers inside her quiescent, body completely limp. "Wow..."

"Hrm." The fingers began moving again.

"Jack, what're--" she gasped, sparks shooting up her spine. Aftershocks or just being completely sensitive to his touch. It didn't matter. "You. Bastard."

"Heh." He bent forward and kissed her gently, then settled back on his heels. That *had* to be killing his knees, she decided. But if he was comfortable, she wasn't going to say anything. "So." The fingers inside of her shifted slightly eliciting a moan. "Think it'll rain today?"

"Jack."

"Ye-es?"

"Can we please go continue this inside?"

That smirk was working quadruple time. He wriggled his fingers again. "I thought you wanted to work on your tan?"

"A tan can wait. I want you to fuck me against a wall."

He blew out a breath, eyebrows raised. "Well, when you put it like that..." The fingers slid out one last time and he scrambled to his feet.

While she collected herself, he grabbed up his discarded towel and beach shoes then held out a hand to her. She grabbed it and swayed once on her feet, still not entirely steady. He snuck a grope which she happily leaned into it. "You're very good at that."

"Practice." The fingers flexed on her skin and he began walking, tugging her with him.

"Good practice." She let out a sigh as he propped her against a tree and leaned in to kiss her. Her hands wound into his hair, one leg pulled up to stroke against his. And he was definitely happy about that, pressing into her and leaving no doubts as to his intentions.

"Much as--" His voice trailed off and he let out a groan as she trailed one hand down his chest, nails scraping against his skin. "Carter--"

"This isn't exactly a wall." She shifted, pressing herself into him, that hand snaking between them to stroke him through his swim trunks. Bracing her shoulders against the trunk, she leaned back slightly. "But it'll do." Her fingers slid under his waistband.

"I don't--" Another gasp.

"There's ground beneath us if we fall."

He groaned and leaned forward to nip at the edge of her collarbone. It's more than enough to encourage her. With a quicksilver movement, she shifts, one hand yanking at his swim trunks to pull them just enough down that he's free, the other grasps him by the hip and they both maneuver slightly before he slides around the barrier of her bikini bottoms and another moan echoes from both their throats as he thrusts inwards.

"Oh, god. Don't move." Her voice is muffled against his shoulder as he hitched at her hip, half-supporting her, half-letting the tree hold them both up. For a moment, he obeyed.

Then he moved, the instincts built into the human body pulling his pelvis away from hers before he shoves forwards again.

Her head rocked backwards, and she stared up at the palm fronds above them as he shifted again, looking for more leverage.

"Damn. Sand." His voice is hoarse with repressed something, possibly need, possibly passion, possibly a cough. She doesn't bother answering but when he slid in and out this time, a soft cry exited her lips.

Then she understood what he meant about the sand, because they over-balance and they're falling, and, oddly, this is almost more of an adrenaline rush than jumping through the gate. And when he landed first, that added amount of gravity and movement sent her nerves dancing, and she let out a louder cry.

At some point, she will notice that there are scratches on her back from the tree and sand on her legs and a bruise on one palm from catching herself on the suddenly hard sand.

But none of that registers because he hasn't stopped thrusting upwards.

He is *really* good at this. She considered demanding of him if long practice made perfect, but since he's right now putting that practice to really good use, she won't. Not while he's making her feel like the world is falling everywhere and the planets are crashing.

Which, she decided hazily when he reached down and fingered her, sounded really stupid.

But when a theoretical astrophysicist is subjected to mind-blowing sex, she's, probably, allowed to get stupid and incoherent.

A groan escaped her and she leaned back, taking him in deeper and giving him easier access to her clitoris. He completely takes advantage of that, and seconds later, she's breaking above him, her head thrown back, her eyes wide.

It's not long before he was following her, almost growling when she tilted her hips the way she knows he likes it.

Flopping forward onto his chest, she sighed. "We didn't make it inside."

"You complainin', Carter?"

"No."

A snort, then he shifted and groaned (in pain, this time). "You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

"Oh?"

"Yep." He eyed her. "Killed with too much mind-blowing sex."

"On a beach, right?" She shifted, but found that he wasn't up to more from *that* quadrant.

"Carter." There was some strain in his voice.

"Yes, Jack?"

"I'm only human, for cryin' out loud."

She sighed and began getting off of him. "I know."

An arm went across his eyes and he groaned. "I'm not Superman."

"Sadly."

"No mocking me."

"Oh, I'd never do that. After all, you're just a decrepit and dirty old man."

That caused the arm to drop and he eyed her. "Y'know, Carter...."

"Yes, Jack?" She put on her best innocent expression.

The arm flopped back over his eyes. "Nothin'."

Great. Whatever he'd been going to say was going to eat at her all day. And night. And he so knew that. Damn. "I hate you."

"That's not what you were saying this morning."

"I lied."

"Uh-huh."

She almost stamped her foot, but caught herself. She wasn't this far gone, was she? To be completely and utterly childish because the man she was sleeping with was keeping some stupid secret from her? Ok. Maybe. But it probably wasn't stupid. It was probably something serious like 'I'm gonna die tomorrow.'

With careful movements and quite a few winces, Jack dragged himself off the ground.

Sam considered knocking him back over, but decided that he'd suffered enough knocks. For the moment.

"C'mon, Carter, I'm hungry again."

"Hot dogs and beer, Jack?"

"Lunch of champions."

Grabbing at his arm, she sighed. "C'mon, old man."

He stumbled and bumped into her, securing an arm around her waist. "Old? Carter, most men don't have sex at all hours of the day with gorgeous blondes."

"Mmm. Saying you're special?"

"Yup." Jack tilted his neck and bumped her head.

Sam grumped, then sighed. "You're making me old before my time, Jack."

"Have you ever been young?"

There was suddenly an underlying seriousness to him, and she paused as they stepped onto the porch. The arm on her waist tightened. "Yes."

Slightly scratchy chin scraped along her shoulder and lips kissed the side of her neck. "Good."

"Lunch?"

He grunted and they continued into the small cottage.

-finis-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!