What the Flight Manual Doesn't Recommend
by ALC Punk!

She blinked at him, pausing what she was doing. "Kinky?"

"Yep." He smirked.

"You think this is kinky?"

"Carter, we're having sex under a table in your lab. It's kinky."

She smirked, "Don't get out much, do you."

"Hey!"

"You... you really think this is kinky?" Okay, so maybe it kind of was. Cold lab floor, air conditioned air that kept the room a steady 63 degrees exactly. And the table, of course, which they were having to be careful of. But she really didn't think it was that kinky.

"It isn't?"

"Erm... Kinky would be us testing out the cockpit of the X-302." She almost groaned at the look of interest in his face. "Your knees would never stand it, sir. And I'm not sure mine would, either."

"Don't wanna join the Mile High Club, Carter?"

"Already a member."

He eyed her. "Really."

"But enough about me, weren't we doing something you called kinky?" She wriggled underneath him, and wondered

"Sure, sure," But he still didn't continue. "I'm... y'know, I think it's time to visit the X-302 hangars."

"Jack."

"Hrm?"

"Stop thinking." She shifted, brought up her leg and wrapped it around his waist.

"Oh." A smirk tipped his lips upwards. "Right."

-=-

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" The hangar bay containing ten X-302s echoed slightly. Sam was certain that her whisper would be picked up by the security cameras and the techs who worked there. Her voice made a strange hissing as she tried to whisper.

"Yup." Jack O'Neill looked sneaky, and slightly smug. "Now, be quiet and c'mon." He tugged at her arm and led the way to the nearest '302, its cockpit open. There was a set of steps next to it, conveniently. "Up you go."

She rolled her eyes, but complied. A moment later she stood on the platform and looked around the hangar. It was very silent aside from the two of them. And empty. "Jack?"

"What?"

"We are so not going to fit." She pointed at the seat, gestured at the instruments and panels and everything that would get in the way. "At all."

"Oh yes we are." He smirked and then put the bag he'd been carrying down. From it, he pulled a sheet of plastic, which he laid down over the seat. Then he stepped into the cockpit, undid his pants, slid them down to his knees, and sat down. He wriggled his hips as if getting comfortable, then waved a hand at her. "Strip."

"It's cold."

"Strip anyway."

"Why?"

"So," he said patiently, "we can have sex in the X-302."

It sounded so perfectly logical and reasonable that she began pulling her clothes off. Then the cool air hit her skin, and goose bumps danced up. "It's cold."

He leered at her, "I can make you warmer."

She made a face at him, then began to see the humor in the situation. "We're not going to fit, you know."

"We will. Now strip."

"You're so romantic." She said grumpily, leaning down to untie her boots before taking her pants off.

"Never complained before." A hand reached out to stroke her ankle.

She glared down at him. "If I fall off of here, you won't be having sex for a really long time."

"Damn." He hastily removed his hands and set them in his lap. Where, she was happy to notice, he was hard.

With her boots off, she slid out of her pants and underwear and then stood there, shirt half-unbuttoned with cold air breezing across her ass. "Jack... This had better be worth it."

"C'mere."

She was able to kneel on his lap, and perfectly happy to spend time kissing him. Even if he did take her shirt the rest of the way off and leave her shivering. And then the shivering was caused by something else. His hands were trailing up and down her skin occasionally sliding down to fondle her ass and legs. Eventually, she was feeling the need for more and shifted.

Her elbow banged into the side of the cockpit. "Ow."

"Sorry." One set of fingers began teasing her left breast, rolling the nipple amongst them. "Better?"

"Mmm." She straightened, trying to straddle him. And discovered that she definitely didn't bend the correct way to do so. "Damnit. This isn't..." She stopped and began to giggle at the absurdity. They were both horny, they were both perfectly ready to have sex. And they couldn't, because there wasn't room.

"Giggling, are we?"

"It's..." She trailed off and flopped forwards against him, giggling harder.

He moved, reaching down and pulling at her. "Here, lean back."

"Wha--" She moved without thinking, and suddenly found herself falling backwards as he pulled her legs up and draped them to the sides of his torso. There was cold metal under her legs, and only instinct kept her from landing on the instrument panels. "Ow."

"Sorry." His hands began sliding over the flesh of her stomach and thighs. She shivered. "Better?"

"Maybe."

He slipped a finger into her and pulled it out. Back in. And out. "You sure it's not better?"

The feel of the cold air and the cold metal and his warm skin combined with the finger sliding in and out of her made her shiver again. "Maybe."

He stopped. "Oh. I suppose I could try something else..."

"Jack." Sam narrowed her eyes and shifted slightly, trying to get closer to his hand. And, incidentally to get a better, somewhat less precarious position. Even though her legs and hips were giving her twinges that said this might just be a little too wide to stretch. But she was suddenly liking this whole having sex in a cockpit thing.

Two fingers slid into her, and his free thumb stroked her clitoris, tugging at it until her own wetness turned the friction slippery.

Leaning her head back against the instrument panels, Sam reached up to grip the edge of the canopy.

His other hand joined the action, and she had three fingers inside of her and two thumbs stroking at her, and her legs clenched and she arched into him, trying to get more out of it all. The strange angle and place were forgotten as his fingers fucked her exquisitely.

"Jack, I'm--Oh, god." Her voice slid into a groan of frustration and passion as a fourth finger slid into her and he slowed down his rhythm.

It was as if he were trying to kill her, she decided, as his fingers slid in oh. so. slowly. and then out oh so slowly. Both thumbs stroked lightly up and down and around her clitoris, as if he'd figured out exactly how to hold her right *there*. Her body began to twitch with impatience and she arched her back more, trying to drive his fingers in deeper (and not kill her hips, which might later object, but right now, she wasn't noticing them).

"Feeling impatient?" He taunted softly. "I thought you said this wouldn't work?"

"I may," she paused to gasp as he shifted and his fingers stroked just right, causing her muscles to clench a little harder, "have been--oh, yessss--wrong."

"Nice of you to admit it."

His fingers quickened, and she found the plateau dissolving and dropping away as she came, hands and arms dragging her upwards in an effort to eke that much more feeling out. When she finally relaxed, she realized something. "Jack?"

"Uh, Carter, you hit something." He gestured with one hand, "You might wanna turn off the hydraulics."

Ah. That's why it sounded like the plane was creaking and moving. "Oops." Reaching out a hand, she grabbed his and slowly pulled herself up enough to reach around and flip down the appropriate toggle. Then she began to laugh again.

One set of fingers was still buried inside of her, and he took full advantage of it, flexing them.

Her laughter cut off and became a gasp of pleasure.

"You're right, by the way," he said softly.

"Hrm?"

"We can't have sex in the cockpit."

"Oh, come on, Jack, don't tell me you can't come up with a solution."

"Carter," the fingers flexed again, "You're the one with all of the brains."

"Fine." She shifted until she had a better grip on the canopy, then pulled her legs up. She felt silly, like a grade-schooler being forced to do gymnastics (not that she was *that* flexible anymore) "Stand up."

He blinked, then tilted his head to the side and stared at her. "Carter?"

"Stand up, you idiot." She gritted her teeth and hung on, her lax muscles protesting every second.

Then he seemed to get it. He stood, her legs slid around his waist and he bent forward, one hand balancing, the other hand reaching between them to position himself properly. And then he thrust forward. Her head bumped the console.

"Almost works," he gasped.

"Sit down," she suggested.

He hauled her more upright and she let go of the canopy. Then he leaned her against it, the cool edge of the plastic and glass digging into her lower back as he thrust in and out. "Jack."

"I'm," thrust, "concentrating."

"Your knees," she pointed out.

"Don't hurt yet."

"But they will in a moment."

"Fine, fine." They half-fell, half-sat, and it took several seconds of re-arranging to stay hooked together. Even then, it still wasn't particularly comfortable.

"Next time," he hissed into her ear as she rocked on top of him, "design the seats bigger."

"I apologize. I wasn't expecting to have sex in them."

"Think ahead, Carter."

"Six--gah--steps?"

"Ten." he corrected.

She stopped moving. "Is this working?"

"Carter, I have you, naked, in my lap."

"That's great, Jack, but is it working?" She eyed him.

"Legs cramping?"

"They will."

"Hrm."

She began to giggle again.

"Carter..."

"It's just... we're way too old to be doing this, and I think it's funny." She dropped her head to his shoulder.

"Ah-ah," she just *knew* he was waggling a finger at her.

"What, Jack?" Her hand snaked up along his jaw, thumb stroking over his lips. "Are we supposed to pretend this is comfortable and easy and that we'll both come at the drop of a hat?"

"The illusion is kinda nice." He nipped at her thumb, then relaxed. "You're not helping, Carter."

"Oh. Sorry. My legs are starting to cramp."

"*Really* not helping."

She shifted, trying to get her legs out from under him. "Well--" She banged her elbow into the side of the cockpit again. "Ow! Damnit."

His hips moved from side to side, and she found her legs free from under him, but now they were stretched. A bit. And the angle had changed, making the feeling slightly sharper when he pushed up into her. One hand closed on the lip of the cockpit to keep herself steady while the other reached out to waggle at him. "This is almost as--" Her voice cut off as his free hand dipped between them, his thumb sliding across her clitoris.

"Definitely better." He sounded smug.

"Okay." she managed before her eyes rolled back into her head and she arched against him and discovered that she could, indeed, enjoy sex in the cockpit of an X-302.

Which was apparently all he was waiting for. His own orgasm shook him, jerking his hips up into hers one last time.

She was, luckily, still gripping the side of the cockpit when she eventually opened her eyes. He had one arm around her, hand gripping her back. But she was slowly beginning to slide off of him and into a painful position. "Ow. Jack, hang onto me."

"Catch you?"

"I'm slipping away," she said dryly. "And I don't think I can bend the correct way to fit into the well down here."

"Right." His other hand grabbed her other hip and he pulled her upright--as upright as he could while her legs were still draped to either side.

It was then that they heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening.

"I'm telling you, Chalmers, I heard a noise."

"Nichols, I highly doubt anyone is in here."

"Well we won't know until we've checked, will we?"

The two voices were on the far side of the hangar. Sam's eyes widened, and she stared at Jack and then at the clothing that was suddenly very far away.

"Damn. Shouldn't have hit the flaps, Carter."

"That was YOUR fault."

He smirked, "So it was."

Sam tried to move away and stand up and reach for her clothes all at once and really only succeeded in kicking the side of the cockpit with her bare foot. "Ow."

"There!" Nichols' highly triumphant voice was closer, "I told you I heard something."

"Well, shouldn't we call for backup, then?"

"Why would we do that?"

As the two descended into arguing about which protocols to follow, Sam finally was able to scramble off of Jack and grab her shirt off the side of the cockpit and button it. Jack was doing the same. Once she was done, she reached over and grabbed the pile of clothing, thankful that she'd neatly folded it in a pile, and dropped it at her feet. Her boots could wait, but she needed pants. Now.

"No time." Firm hands grabbed her hips and turned her and she found herself sitting in the General's lap.

The two guards had finally decided to search through the planes.

A minute later, they were standing on the side away from the ladder (thank god). Nichols spotted them first, his dark eyes widening. "General! Colonel!"

"Nichols." The General replied, his tone giving NO indication that he was at all uncomfortable being caught with his pants around his ankles and a pantsless Colonel in his lap. Not, of course, that they could see this fact. "Chalmers."

"Sirs." Chalmers looked at them, also seeming somewhat disturbed.

"We were testing whether a fully armored jaffa could fit in here," Jack said, his tone calm and almost factual.

Since his free hand was absently trailing up and down Sam's bare thigh, Sam wondered if lightning would strike them down on the spot for the lie.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to have an armored jaffa test it?" asked Nichols.

"Didn't think of that."

"Ah." Looking smug, the man nodded. "I *knew* I heard something."

"Yeah, yeah," Chalmers eyed them, "Done testing, sirs?"

"We will be in a minute," Sam told him. "Why don't you both go and make sure the hallway out there is still secure."

"Good idea."

The two left, walking and talking softly to each other. They cast one or two glances back at them until finally, they were out of the hangar, and the door had closed again.

Sam let out a breath. "Well."

"Hrm." His chin nudged her shoulder. "Wanna do that again?"

She carefully removed herself from his lap and bent over to retrieve her clothing. "Not right here, no."

"That's always good." Fingers trailed along the backs of her thighs.

Refusing to acknowledge his devious intentions, she clambered out of the cockpit and stood on the platform to put her pants back on. She didn't bother tying her boots, just stepped into them and tucked the laces inside. "C'mon, Jack, put yourself away so we can go find something a little less cramped."

"I like cramped." From the bag he'd brought he pulled out a rag and began cleaning himself off.

She eyed him, "Great. Is this a new kink I'm discovering? That you like to have sex in tight and enclosed spaces?"

"We could always test out your closet." He suggested as he stood and pulled his pants back up, carefully zipping them.

"I don't think so."

"Darn. I thought you wanted kinky, Carter?"

"Leather. Whips. Chains."

"You like all of that stuff?"

"Well, no." She admitted.

He carefully rolled up the plastic he'd laid down and stowed it in the bag. "But you like leather. And me."

"True."

Jack nodded, smug again. "All right. Let's go reassure the troops that we're not insane."

"That's a matter of opinion," she muttered as she clambered down the stairs.

"Yes," he caught with her and snaked an arm around her waist. "Yes it is."

"Jack?"

"Hrm?"

"What about the security cameras?"

"Dealt with."

"You and your black ops toys?"

"Nah." His fingers slid under the waistband of her pants and caressed her hip. "I stole a toy from your lab. Some interference doo-hickey."

"Ah." She frowned. "Was it working?"

"I tested it."

She eyed him sideways, then shrugged and stepped away from him reluctantly. "We should go."

"Pity. I wanted to try having sex in a corner of the hangar."

"Too cold."

"You weren't complaining twenty minutes ago."

"I was, you just weren't listening."

"Ah."

"C'mon, General, your bed is calling."

-finis-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!