Hard and Fast
by ALC Punk!

After blood tests, pokings and proddings, Janet eyed her legs. "Sam?"

"They chained me to a wall."

Concern filled the doctor's eyes as she carefully inspected the tender flesh of Sam's thighs. "Did you--"

"Oh! No. Not rape, Janet. Just chafing from the chains they used." Sam winced. It really did hurt, now that she wasn't full of adrenaline and--other things. "Don't suppose you have any analgesic creams?"

"Actually, the best thing for this is probably time, and a little aloe."

"I think I can handle that." It didn't really hit her, until she was getting into her car later that evening (carefully getting in, since her legs weren't *quite* happy with her). She'd done something with her commanding officer that she hadn't done in a... well, with more than herself, anyway. A long time. A very long time.

And she'd done it with her commanding officer. Not that they'd done *it*, she thought, almost resentful. But there had been full body contact and release.

It had been... strangely erotic. (well, of course it had been erotic. She'd come, hadn't she?)

Even thinking about it was making her skin tingle.

Sam Carter never would have thought she'd have a fetish for chain mail. Of course, in reality, it was the man beneath that made her brain spin and her mouth water.

Yup, she thought as her muscles twitched slightly. Definitely the man behind the mask.

A giggle escaped her, and she sighed.

Damn, she had it bad.

"Carter?"

She jumped. Think of the devil and he appeared. "Sir."

"Doc let you out in one piece?" He was eyeing her through the open window.

"Yup." She shifted, then winced. "I've got some, uh, chafing issues. But I'm fine otherwise."

"Ah." His eyes met hers. He *so* knew exactly what chafing she was talking about.

She blushed.

"Hungry?"

"Yes."

His lips twitched up in that lopsided smirk she knew so well. "My place or yours?"

"For--dinner?"

"Dinner." He confirmed.

"Mine. I need to get out of these pants." Oh, dear god. She had *not* just said that. She closed her eyes, wondering if there was some cosmic thing out there mocking her.

A choking sound made her open them again. He was still smirking, but his eyes had widened. "Um..."

"So. Dinner, sir?"

"Right. Dinner."

"Pizza."

He nodded and gestured, "I'll follow you."

Good plan. Going home in the same vehicle could look... wrong. Even if she would have made him bring her back so she could spend the night on base. Or something. Right. "See you there, sir."

-=-

She really should never have agreed to dinner. It had been nice, and filling. And now she was sitting on her couch in her loosest pair of shorts (damn chafing). And he was sitting across from her, eyes dark as he stared at her. Maybe if she'd waited until he'd gone home to get out the cream for her legs...

"Let me help you. After all, it's partially my fault..."

But then again, maybe she'd done this deliberately. She swallowed, but held out the tub of cream to him and waited.

Careful fingers began smoothing the cooling lotion onto her abused flesh. Careful fingers which did really fun things to her nerve endings and made her... She sighed softly as he stroked his way up her thighs then back down, kneading the muscles there ever so slightly.

"Better?"

"Mhmm." She shifted, spreading her legs wider, feeling the abraded skin relax more.

With her eyes closed, she could almost block out who this was. Except that with her eyes closed, she could smell him, a sharp, rich scent that she could remember from the cell. Unfortunately, it was now inextricably linked with her own arousal. Or fortunately. Either way, she was beginning to wish she'd told him to go home earlier. Before he was kneeling between her legs and running his hands up and down her legs.

His hands, she realized, had stilled.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Don't stop." She'd said that last time, too.

The smirk tilted his lips and then both hands slid under her shorts and the fingers that had been attempting to be nothing but clinical were now much more arousing. She shuddered as they massaged her through her panties. It was almost as good as the chain mail. Except that it still wasn't skin on skin. And she wanted skin on skin.

As if reading her mind (or just deciding that's what *he* wanted to do), two of the fingers slid under the elastic and pushed into her. Considering the trend of her thoughts, she was unsurprised to find herself already wet.

Oh, this was definitely better than the chain mail. And it was definitely not the chain mail that had done this last time. Well, not mostly. He fingered her with a slow careful rhythm. All the way in, all the way out. Twisting slightly, or flexing as he went. The variations were enough to prod her nerves into a very alert state.

Considering how good he was with his fingers, and how much she'd always wanted this man... Yeah, sometimes waiting for a while was a good payoff. If it did *this* to you.

Her breath hissed out as he paused then changed the angle slightly. "Oh..."

It seemed incredible, she thought as the pressure built. He was barely doing anything, except that it was him, and they weren't chained up, and his mouth was kissing her bare knee and oh, god, he better not stop. Because this was too damned good.

She arched her back, trying to get the fingers closer (or further in or further away, or just more of them), and his lips began trailing slowly up her right leg. From knee to mid-thigh and back down. Over and over, light feathery touches that added to the other slippery touch of his fingers sliding in and out of her. His free hand clamped down on her hip, holding her in place.

Lips and tongue and the slight rough edge of his stubble, and the gentle nibble of his teeth. And it was all too much.

Orgasm slammed into her, and time seemed to slow down. His fingers stroked in and out, the pleasure almost excruciating in its exactness. Then she was falling, body slumping as her muscles relaxed into somnolence. "God..."

He was watching her still, eyes dark with amusement and lust and pride. "Better?"

Than the chain mail? "Yes."

"Good." He kissed her knee again then straightened and winced. "My knees, unfortunately..."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He smirked and slowly stood up, wincing again. "I should be going."

"But--"

The smirk deepened. "I'm an old man, Carter."

"Not that old."

"Stroking my ego gets you nowhere."

"Who said I wanted to stroke your ego?" And she moved rubbery legs and arms and body and reached out a hand to grab him by the belt loop. Yeah, she knew she'd always loved him in jeans.

"Carter--"

"C'mere." Her other hand reached out and stroked the front of his jeans.

A groan escaped him.

She pulled on the belt loop again, and he finally moved, sitting next to her on the couch. Without stopping to think, she slipped down to kneel at his feet and stared up at him, her hand still stroking the front of his jeans. "Jack?" The name slipped out. She was supposed to call him 'sir', or 'colonel', she thought dimly. But they'd moved beyond that. Moved somewhere that the formality had no place.

"Please."

It took her less time to unzip his jeans and pull them back enough and reach in and slide him out of his underwear than she'd thought it would. For a moment, she knelt there, staring at his dick. Then she looked up at him, eyes meeting his as she stroked her finger down the side.

He was already so very hard she guessed it wouldn't take too much more.

She didn't have a large arena of experience, she thought as she moved forward and slowly wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. But he wasn't small. She figured he pretty much wasn't huge, but he was... a nice, comfortable size. Really, the perfect size. Because she could suck him and enjoy it and not feel over-whelmed. Almost like sucking an all-day sucker.

A moan escaped him.

An all-day sucker that smirked at her. She swirled her tongue around the head then slid her lips down, taking more of him in. On the way back up she let her teeth graze him gently.

"Carter--"

She tightened her lips, ignoring his warning. His hips jerked upwards and she moved with the motion, feeling her own smirk at doing *this* to him.

The tightening combined with her hand sliding down to fondle his balls proved too much. He came with a hoarse cry, his body straining to get closer to her. She sucked at him, swallowing quickly barely noticing the taste (not that it was bad--she'd had to eat far worse things during her time on SG-1, and she wondered in the back of her mind whether other women at the SGC ever did taste comparisons).

When he was done, she let him slip from her mouth, carefully cleaning up the small amount that had spilled.

Then she sat back on her heels and gazed up at him, waiting for his eyes to open again. He was panting with the exertion, sucking in large gulps of air. She *definitely* would never be able to stare at him across the briefing room table again the same way. Not when she knew what his fingers felt like. Not when she knew *this* feeling of power over him.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." She carefully stood, using his legs as a prop.

"Carter--"

"It's all right."

He stood then carefully adjusted himself and zipped up his jeans. "I--" his hand went through his hair, and then both hands went into his pockets.

"I know." She moved to stand as close as she could get without touching him. "Go home, Jack. I need to sleep."

"Throwing me out?"

"In a manner of speaking."

A smirk touched his lips and he leaned in the last inch and kissed her, "I'll see you tomorrow at work."

"Not if I," she paused to tangle a hand in his hair and drag his mouth back to hers. "See you first," she mumbled against his lips. And tongue.

Maybe she wouldn't be kicking him out anytime soon.

-finis-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!