Lost All Reality
by ALC Punk!

It took him less than a second to scan the room and find the anomaly amongst the usual barflies. He hadn't expected to find her in a place like this. Or maybe he had, sensing that at some level she would escape to something less elegant. The dress blues she wore made her stand out of the crowd, although the precise folds and creases were a little mussed with the passage of time.

The blonde hair wasn't still perfectly coiffed either, and he assumed she'd run her hands through it during her time here.

Figuring the direct approach was the best, he sidled up and claimed the stool next to hers.

"Fuck off."

He shot her a glance. She hadn't looked up when she'd said it. "Now, Carter, I know you can be blunt at times, but 'fuck off'?"

"Yes." Then startled blue eyes met his. "Sir."

Jack waved a hand at the bartender and ordered a beer. Once the beverage was in his hand, he raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "Wanna talk about it?"

A bitter laugh came from her and she shook her head. "No."

"Ah." He sipped his beer and studied her. Captain Sam Carter was normally so easy to read and talkative he wasn't sure how to take this suddenly unreasonably silent and almost angry woman. "Did I tell you about the reporter?"

"Sir?"

"Yes, Carter?"

"Fuck off."

He had to admit she said it a little more politely, this time. "No."

"Fine." She waved at the bartender. "I'd like to settle my bill, please."

He came over and handed her a long strip of paper. She dug in her pockets and slapped three twenties down on the bar. "Keep the change."

Jack watched her leave, then turned back to the bartender. "How long had she been here?"

"Long enough." The man gave him an appraising look, then nodded. "Don't know what she's upset about, but I'd go after her if I were you. Never a good idea to let a girl wander alone in that state."

Even knowing Carter wouldn't appreciate the lack of trust in her ability to defend herself, Jack nodded his agreement and dropped a ten on the bar. "Thanks."

She was waiting for him at the end of the alley, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. There was a tension to her that hadn't been there in the bar. Either that, or she had just been damn good at hiding it. He waited until he got close enough to touch. Invading her personal space at any other time might have been a bad idea, but right now, he needed to let her know he was there. "Hey."

Her head tilted back and she looked at him, her eyes dark and fathomless. "How many offers have you turned down tonight?"

"What?"

"Sex." Her tongue came out to wet her lips and something inside him shifted, eyes following the movement.

Maybe it was just the alcohol, the haze, the way she was staring at him. But for just a moment, the control he had on himself slipped. "Why?" He stepped closer.

Uncoiling like a cat, she dropped her arms to her sides and walked that last step to meet him. "Because I'm about to proposition you." Her hand came up to fiddle with a button on her uniform. He followed the motion distractedly, and swallowed because he could almost feel the movement against his own body. "Jack?"

"Carter--"

"Just say no." Her head tilted and she leaned towards him. Her lips were nearly touching his. "All you have to do is say no, Jack."

She smelled like alcohol, and he knew he should be backing away. But there was also something in the way she was acting that told him if it wasn't him it would be someone else. And on some level, he didn't want that. At least he knew *he* was healthy and clean. And he also knew he was rationalizing wanting to kiss his second in command. But right at that moment, he was drunk.

And so was she.

The last centimeter went away and their lips met.

If he had ever considered what kissing Sam Carter would be like, this wasn't it. There was nothing soft about the lips beneath his. Nothing tentative. She had made her choice and was now going through with it. And the demands of her body awoke demands in his own. Her hands locked behind his neck and his trailed down her sides.

They kissed, lips and tongues tangling until he fumbled open the jacket of her uniform and slid his hands inside.

And Sam Carter arched against his body and made a soft sound that he really wanted to make her do again. So he slid one hand up to cup a breast, stroking across the taut nipple through her shirt and bra. The sound she made this time was slightly deeper, but no less arousing.

He worked on more buttons and didn't pay much attention as she began backing up into the wall until she leaned against it and used it for leverage to push against him.

A groan escaped him and she smirked against his mouth and pulled back with a slurping sound. "Like that, do you?" Her hands played with the hair at the back of his neck, then one came around to slide down the front of his uniform until it reached the top of his pants.

They stood there, and for a moment, Jack knew that they could still step away from this.

But this was Carter, and he'd been flirting with her since day one, and her hand was suddenly rubbing against him, playing very gently across the hardening erection inside his pants.

She was going to drive him insane.

Without conscious thought, he leaned in, grinding against her hand and sucking a fast line down her throat, teeth coming out to nip at the hollow while his hands finally slid inside her half-unbuttoned shirt and began trailing along skin.

Another moan ripped from her throat and she shifted, arching to allow him better access while her head fell back against the brick of the wall.

She tasted, he decided, like cigarette smoke and alcohol and salt and something that he would recognize in the dark in the middle of a rainstorm. Carter. He'd become used to smelling her in their tent, in his office, in her lab--in the cafeteria at lunch. It wasn't a brazen scent, it was just something indefinably *her*.

"Oh, god--" Her voice broke off into a strangled moan as his free hand worked at getting her skirt up. He finally had to use both hands until he'd exposed stocking-clad legs.

He stopped kissing her neck as his fingers registered the tops of the stockings and the bare flesh that was right above them. He pulled back and stared down in the moonlight at the skin his fingers could touch. Dear god, she could not get hotter. Stockings, dress blues, and dark eyes that were begging to be shattered into a million pieces.

Without needing to be told, he stepped back, then grabbed her waist. Between them they propped her against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist, the pale skin gleaming in the light that filtered down. He pressed her back against the wall and started to reach between them when her hand stopped him, sliding down and fumbling with the zipper then slipping into his pants and stroking him. A smirk tipped her lips when he growled softly.

Since she was going to be such a sadist, he decided to fight back, and reached down to push aside the white panties she'd been wearing. For a moment, he watched her, noting the anticipation and feeling the way her thigh muscles tensed that little bit more.

Then he smirked and took his hand away, reaching up and sliding his fingers down her throat. "Am I that predictable?"

"Jack." Her voice stopped, a growl escaping her as her hand got enough room to tighten around him. "Don't play with me."

He dropped his hands to cup her ass and shifted her again, sliding a little closer. Her eyes widened, but she maneuvered him, and he was suddenly right there. She was damp against him, slick with need and desire. He closed his eyes and thrust inwards, dropping his head to her shoulder as she exhaled a soft little cry. He wondered, dimly, how long it had been for her. He knew it had been long enough for him (Kynthia) that he wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. But she felt very tight and slick against him.

"Move, Jack," Her voice was hoarse with need.

He obeyed the instruction, pulling out and sliding back in. Getting used to the feel of her around him, the way she exhaled a little yip when he thrust in at an angle. Freeing one hand, he brought it up to slide back into her shirt and find those breasts. The ones he had always wanted to see again after her thwarted seduction attempt in the locker room.

That little tank top number had never done them justice.

She let out a shuddering breath as his fingers sketched random patterns on one, then the other.

His knees started to ache from the unnatural use he was putting them to, but he ignored them, intent on making her shatter around him as he fucked her against the brick wall.

"Oh--" And then she was, her eyes widening, her head banging into the wall as she lost control.

He watched, drinking in the sight, and then held on, determined not to follow her this quickly. But a smirk appeared on her lips and she shifted against him, the angle changed. Her lips caught his her tongue sweeping in and invading while her hands pulled at his uniform. He let out a groan of his own as her fingers claimed his bare skin.

When she treated his own nipples to the same rolling, tugging, the sensation was too much. He thrust in one final time and then came, body spasming, knees trying desperately not to collapse him and spill them both on the somewhat filthy ground of the alley.

Moving carefully, they disengaged. He dodged an elbow before they were back on their own two feet. She buttoned her shirt and jacket back up, then handed him a handkerchief before tugging her skirt back down her legs. He paused to watch and feel sad that the nice flesh was disappearing again. But then, he now knew what that flesh felt like, and the knowledge definitely made him smug.

"We should... go."

"Yeah." He didn't add that fucking his second in command in a back alley in Washington DC would probably earn him strange looks. "Cab?"

"I'd... I'd rather walk."

He grimaced. The handkerchief had helped, but there was the stickiness to consider. "Erm. Taxi."

A blink, and then she nodded, leading the way out back through the maze of alleys until they reached something resembling a busy street. The second cab they flagged stopped and within minutes (spent in silence) they were deposited outside their hotel. She met his eyes for a moment, then turned and went in. He followed, suddenly impressed. She looked like she'd had sex in an alley (or at least had gotten rather drunk), and she still moved through the glittering expensive lobby with all of the poise of Miss America.

He'd always known she was special.

The elevator ride was silent, as was the walk to their rooms. They were across the hall from each other. He paused at his door, fumbling the key out and wondering if he should ask, or just go to bed, or what.

"Going to bed?" There was mockery in her tone.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Coming with me?"

"Shower."

He opened his door and stepped in, holding it open so she could enter if she wanted. He was suddenly uncertain. Sure, there'd been sex against an alley wall, but that didn't necessarily mean she wanted anything else from him. The smirk on her lips deepened and she followed him inside and let him close the door before attacking him with her hands and lips. Not that he didn't participate fully, pulling her against him and dragging his mouth from her lips to bite at her neck.

She still tasted like cigarettes.

"Jack."

"Ah. Shower."

They helped each other out of their clothes, stopping frequently enough that he was seriously beginning to reconsider the idea of getting clean and just taking her right there in the middle of the room (the carpet was plush enough). They only got tangled once, and neither ended up on the floor although it was close.

And then he had naked Sam Carter standing in his hotel room, her breasts moving with her breathing. All of her moving with her breathing. He simply stared, taking in the pale skin and dark hair further down and the way her legs seemed to go on forever (and he hadn't really noticed them when they'd been wrapped around him earlier, but he was definitely going to look, this time.

"I'll get the water started." Her breathing was a little fast.

He followed her less than a minute later, and discovered that Sam Carter standing in his shower already soaking wet was really something he wanted to remember for a very long time.

Joining her carefully, he relaxed into the spray of water. Eventually, he got the soap and began soaping himself before passing it to her. "Turn around." Fingers traced down his skin, rubbing and massaging, stopping when they reached his ass. They disappeared, and he wondered if she'd decided to stop. Then they were back, slicker then before, stroking down. And a moment later she had to have knelt, because her hands were moving down his legs.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jack confirmed that Sam was kneeling behind him, her lips slightly parted as she focused on washing him legs.

A tug on his legs, and he turned again. Her lips parted even more and she looked up and met his eyes. Then she reached out and ran her fingers across his dick. He groaned softly, and she did it again, this time with confidence. She leaned forward and licked him. "Carter--"

"Ssssh. I've always liked all-day suckers."

Her tongue glided along his length, up and down and then back up again. And then she paused for a moment. He tried not to move, guessing what she was about to do. Her lips closed around the head and he groaned.

A chuckle vibrated through his cock and the groan deepened.

Then she was moving, sliding up and down, suction pulling at him while her tongue swirled at just the right spots.

He had never thought he would see Sam Carter sucking him off. He wasn't sure that it wasn't a dream. But the pressure was there, and the shower was pounding down on him, and Sam Carter was naked and kneeling at his feet. "Carter."

"Mmm?"

"C'mere." He tugged at her hair, and she released him with a popping sound and a pout. Then she let him pull her to her feet. "I'm an old man, Carter. If I slip and fall in the shower, you'll have to take me to the E.R."

"Ah."

He kissed her, then bent over and snagged the soap. "Your turn."

They both got her soapy, he worked from the back, she worked from the front (after he'd broken the bar in half). He was impatient. He wanted to fuck her again, wanted to taste her and feel her skin sliding along his--and he didn't want to taste cigarettes this time. But he got distracted when he knelt to wash the backs of her legs, and when she turned slightly he took advantage, slipping his hand between her thighs.

"Jack--" Her voice let out a sound he liked hearing as his finger slid into her.

She flexed, pushing against his hand and bending forward to brace herself against the wall. From this angle he could look around her hips and watch her play with her breasts. He added a second finger, and her breathing quickened again, her head dropping to rest against the tile.

Moving slightly, he slid his free hand around her and delved his fingers between her legs until he found a spot that made her twitch. Then he concentrated on it, varying the speed of his fingers, the rhythm changing as she gave vent to sounds that had *him* twitching.

One of his knees twinged, but he ignored it, instead focusing on Sam Carter as she became lost in sensation, her back arching and her body stiffening. He added a third finger and leaned forward to bite gently at her ass moving his mouth around until he found the hollow at her hip. He had time to notice the tiny fleck of mole there before she distracted him by coming, crying out and shaking. He caught her against him, steadying her between his body and the wall of the shower while she trembled as his fingers continued to slide in and out.

When the last of the tremors stopped he pulled his hands away, bringing the fingers to his mouth and licking.

Ah. So that's what Sam Carter tasted like. He closed his eyes, considering. If he'd been Daniel, or one of the pet geeks, he could have come up with a hundred different descriptions for the flavor. But he was simply Jack O'Neill. Carter tasted like Carter. And that was more than enough for him.

"Your knees must be killing you."

"Make it up to me."

"Turn off the shower, flyboy."

While she opened the curtain and gathered towels, he did as she suggested. And then he dragged himself back to his feet, wincing as his knees protested this double mistreatment. Sam handed him a towel, then turned and left the bathroom, using her own as she went.

An idea came to him which nearly made him stagger. The image filled his mind, and he considered it, then decided there was nothing he could lose by asking. It wasn't something he would normally have suggested, but he was kind of drunk, and there was something about the idea of Sam Carter tied to his bed that made his breathing quicken. "Carter."

"Hrm?" She arched an eyebrow at him as she got to the bed, turning slightly to give him a better view as she ran the towel down her breasts and stomach.

He gulped. "I have an idea."

"Am I going to like it?"

"Maybe." He fiddled with the towel, then blurted, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then lay down on your back."

She raised both eyebrows, but complied.

He left her there to rummage around the room for things he could use. A glance at the bedposts told him this could actually work. He fished her stockings out of the pile of clothes, then looked around and finally settled on their belts. Luckily, both were supple and soft on the inside. Then he turned back. And nearly choked on his tongue.

When she'd laid down, she'd removed the comforter, shoving it to the floor. Apparently, she wasn't willing to wait for him, her fingers stroking in a rhythm that made her back arch slightly off the bed while she watched him, her eyes half-lidded.

"Carter." Damn, she was going to kill him.

"Hrm?" That lazy smirk again.

"Spread 'em."

It took her a moment, and then her eyes opened fully again. "Oh." She moved slowly, her hands stopping to caress and pinch before she settled them near the posts, her arms stretched out. Her legs followed suit, and he paused to admire the length of her yet again. Then he moved and set down the things he'd gathered and took one of the stockings. Efficiently, he secured one wrist. He checked that it wasn't too tight then moved down and used the belts to carefully anchor her ankles to the bottom of the bed. If she really wanted to, she could get out. Last, he tied her other wrist.

Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Her cheeks were flushed (probably left over from her masturbation, but she didn't seem to be objecting), her breath moving a little faster than the post-orgasmic rhythm. And she looked beautiful, stretched out on the bed, her pale skin just barely darker than the sheets she lay against, her damp hair straggling here and there on her head and his pillow.

A smirk tipped her lips, "Going to stand there all night? It could get cold."

"Nope." He moved, bent down and captured a nipple in his mouth and sucked. A strangled moan sounded from her, and she arched, trying to get him closer.

He let her go and climbed onto the bed to begin systematically tasting every inch of her exposed skin. It took him the better part of an hour to find out exactly what she tasted like in every little nook and cranny. By then he'd made her come again (a slightly slower orgasm, but she hadn't complained), dipping his tongue inside of her until she was writhing against her bonds. Then he moved back up her body and nuzzled the underside of one breast while his fingers slid into her.

When he didn't think she could take anymore, he was nipping at her knees, stroking underneath them and rubbing her calves. "Jack." There was something desperate in her tone.

"Hrm?" He smiled, moving to graze the skin of her inner thighs with the stubble he'd accumulated.

"Oh, god." Her voice broke, "Jack, if you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to get free and *kill* you."

"Well, when you put it like that." It took less than ten seconds to release her ankles, and then he moved back between her thighs. Her legs came up and wrapped around him and he reached between them, settled himself, and sank into her.

Sam cried out and pushed against him, tightening her legs.

If he lived to be a hundred, he really didn't think he'd see anything more erotic than Sam Carter begging to be fucked. (And, given that he'd already aged nearly that old once, he was pretty sure he was right). So he did. The strokes were hard and fast, in and out before she could draw enough breath. It left her panting and writhing beneath him, her muscles clenching him tighter and tighter.

Until he stopped (and his own body screamed a protest), freezing for a moment, before shifting slightly and getting just a little more oomph into his thrust.

She came again, crying out. One hand came loose and she grabbed for his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and tugging his mouth to hers. Her tongue was in his mouth when he came inside of her, shuddering and shaking and wondering just what god he'd pissed off to put this woman under his command. And underneath him in his bed.

It was an effort to move off of her and find the comforter, almost too much effort. He was suddenly exhausted, and so was she. A towel took care of the wet spot, and they curled around each other, the sweat drying on their skins.

Carter made one feeble attempt to leave. A mumbled, "I should leave."

He simply tightened his grip on her.

"Fine." She'd freed her other wrist while he'd been getting the comforter. Her arms slid around him. "But I warn you now, I have horrible morning breath."

He kissed whatever portion of her anatomy was under his lips, chuckled, and fell asleep.

-f-

For the record: It is indeed possible to orgasm four times in one night (I have this vague memory of someone conducting experiments with a woman coming every minute for over an hour, but I suppose that could have been fake). And I have conducted polls!

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© 2005 ALC Punk!