Habit-forming
by ALC Punk!

In the shower stall where he'd been standing and relaxing and just being generally glad that he was alone and not surrounded by a mountain of paperwork, General Jack O'Neill froze.

"I can't believe those people *listen* to him, I wouldn't. I would string him up and flay him alive, and if I could just get away with blowing his ass to pieces, I'd recquisition some god-damn C4!" There was no accompanying kick this time.

Jack realized that he should probably have left the cubicle after turning the shower off, but he'd been enjoying the steam and the solitude too much.

"Superfluous! He called me, ME, superfluous!" This time a vicious kick echoed again. "I know every milimeter of this system, but, no, he knows everything and so they don't need me. Hah!"

He knew that voice. Damn. Reaching out he snagged his towel and then headed out into the outer room. "Carter?"

The sounds of pacing and muttered cursing stilled. "Sir?"

She was standing near the bench, her hands clenched at her sides. Angry energy radiated from her, coloring the room with a tinge of red.

"McKay?"

"Of course!" She exploded, turning away from him, although he was sure her eyes had widened at the towel around his waist. "He didn't want me to put my oar in. Stupid, conceited--"

"Carter!"

She glared at him, arms crossing over her chest. "I know, sir. I can't go to Antarctica, I can't go to Atlantis. And now I can't even use my own fucking lab."

"We need you too much here, Colonel."

Her eyes narrowed, "Oh, do you now." She moved closer to him, her movements suddenly predatory. "You know, Jack--" his first name, and he knew he was in trouble, "--the last time we were in this sort of situation--"

"Ah!" He raised a hand, backing away, "Carter, whatever's suddenly going through that fabulous brain of yours--"

He didn't get to finish the statement because she was kissing him, her hands locked behind his neck and the buttons of her shirt digging into his damp chest. Not that he was going to object--to the kissing part, at least. But this was very sudden, and, "Carter--" he yelped against her mouth.

Unfortunately for him, that simply gave her access to slip her tongue inside. And, dear god, but she tasted like coffee and cream and Carter.

She was really very good at this.

"Carter," he mumbled, trying for the objection in form, if not in practice (because his hands were grabbing fistfulls of her shirt and holding her against him).

"Don't you want me?" Her tone taunted him, memories dragging out of a place he had never planned to visit again (except on Saturday nights, with lube and his right hand).

"Yes." He didn't add any equivocation, simply moved and caught her against a locker and his own body, pinning her there while he plundered her mouth.

She whimpered softly, arching against him, rubbing against the portions of his anatomy which were very happy for her to be there.

Jack pulled back slightly, "You're wearing too many clothes."

"So," she paused to nip her way along his jaw, causing him to groan. "Institute a new dress code."

"You. Naked. All the time."

"Mmm. Only if you're naked and dripping wet all the time."

She was wearing too many clothes. Between heated kisses and fingers sliding along skin, they got her boots and pants off.

"What about McKay?"

"Who?" Her hands found the towel and ripped it away. She paused to admire him, head tilted to one side. "I don't think McKay has anything on you, Jack."

"I should hope not," he growled, grabbing her by the waist and moving to hitch her up against the locker. She reached up and caught the edges above her and then smirked at him.

Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist and he reached down and slid a finger into her. Her head tilted back, a groan escaping. "Now, Jack."

If he'd known how horny she got when she was pissed, he would have pissed her off a hell of a lot more often. He shifted, found himself, and then pushed into her.

A soft sigh escaped her and her legs tighened around his waist. "Your knees can't keep this up for long."

"They can try, though." He smirked and leaned in to lick her neck, tongue dragging a line down her jugular. She pushed against him, then pulled back slightly, and they began moving. It wasn't an elegant rhythm, and it wasn't easy to maintain, but it felt so damn good--she felt so damn good.

Jack had always assumed this would never happen. Especially not with Shanahan around. But he wasn't going to think about that. He was going to think about half-naked Sam Carter moaning every time he thrust into her.

And then he stopped, panting. "Carter--my knees." They were giving him the twinges she'd warned him they would. And while he'd love to continue this torture, it wouldn't look good if he had to limp off and talk to Dr. Brightman. She'd be certain to want to know how he'd injured them.

"The bench. Sit down."

Carefully pulling out of her, he watched her legs flop to the ground and then took the few steps back that were necessary to sit down on the bench. It was cold, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't be noticing that shortly.

She stalked over, looking rather sexy in nothing but her t-shirt (he wasn't sure when they'd lost her BDU top, but it was currently crumpled in a far corner of the locker room). "Hrm." Her dillated eyes stared down at his, then drifted down his body to the portion of his anatomy that was demanding attention still. Her head tilted to the side and before he could suggest she straddle him she was on her knees her lips wrapped around him.

"Gah." He was pretty certain his eyes were going to explode. One hand reached down and tangled in her hair, holding her right there.

Lips and tongue and teeth, and she had incredible suction. "Carter." He croaked, "I'm an old man, I don't think--"

She paused in her movements and looked up at him, eyes dark and twinkling. "Yes, Jack?"

"Get up here." He tugged at her hair and she stood, bending to meet his lips with hers. And then she was on his lap, sliding back down onto him. They both sighed at the same moment. And she chuckled, then dipped her head to the side and kissed his neck.

Her hips flexed and she began to move, very, very, slowly. He pushed against her, wanting her to move faster. It occured to him that his hands had nothing to do, and he rectified that by sliding them under her shirt and finally getting his hands on Carter's breasts. She groaned against his neck and arched. He yanked the bra out of the way, pulled her shirt up enough and bent over to find out if they tasted as good as they felt.

The sensation of his lips and tongue on her apparently distracted her because her rhythm broke, then restarted. And she was now moving faster, soft cries echoing in the locker room.

"Is the door locked?" He was kind of surprised to be thinking in any capacity.

"Locked it--" she let out a growl as he gently rolled a nipple between his fingers, "--when I came in to--Jack."

He looked into her eyes, and smirked. "What?"

"Don't," another moan, and he thrust upwards, "--stop."

And then she was lost to sensation, her body spasming around him as her head fell back. He caught her cry of completion with his lips, swallowing it down.

Which was all he really needed to follow her, considering her lips and tongue had nearly done him in earlier.

They slowly flopped back, he had just enough energy to turn them so they didn't fall off the bench and instead landed on it. Not that it was big enough. He tightened his arms around her and thunked his head against the wood.

A sigh escaped her and she shifted. "Jack..."

"Hrm?"

"Can we try that again, in, say, a bedroom?" There was a smirk on her lips as she looked at him.

"Sure you won't be bored?" he taunted.

"Mmm. No."

"All right, then."

There should be a conversation, he thought vaguely. Of course, with their luck they wouldn't get to finish their conversation. A knock echoed into the locker room, and a voice followed it. "Colonel Carter?"

Sam raised her head, "What is it?"

"Dr. McKay would like to speak with you in your lab." the slightly muffled voice informed her.

"Tell him to go suck a lemon," Jack muttered.

A snicker escaped her, but she didn't allow it to reach their tormentor. "Tell him I'll see him in an hour."

An hour? That would so *not* be long enough. "Carter--"

"Ssh." Her fingers settled on his lips.

"All right, ma'am."

The bench was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He poked her. "Carter?"

"What?"

"I can't feel my legs."

"Ah. Sorry." She carefully removed her person from his, and he kinda wished she hadn't. It was cold without her.

"I think I'm going to have them turn the damn thermostat up," he muttered, sitting up.

"Oh?" Her eyebrow was arching. She bent down and picked up the towel he'd been wearing. It gave him a really nice view, and he simply stopped thinking to enjoy it. "Jack?"

"Hrm?"

"I think you need another shower." That smirk was back.

"Carter, my knees--"

"The tile isn't *that* hard."

She had a point. "You need a shower too."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"On, and Carter?"

"Hrm?"

"Did I ever tell you you're Smurftastic?"

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!