Virtual Fantasy vs. Reality
by ALC Punk!

Even when she'd been dating Pete Shanahan (nice guy, bit boring), he'd still done it.

But then, there had been the inevitable arguments over her staying up until three in the morning to chatter at her 'internet pal', and she had finally given the detective his walking papers.

Unfortunately, that left her without a physical outlet for sex. Oh, she could use her hands and toys, but a living, breathing male was much more fun.

Which made her slightly weak that night, and she let her hands do the thinking for two seconds. Although it could have been the three shots of tequila, bad porn, and the thought of Jack O'Neill's ass.

[Carter] Sir?
[O'Neill] yes?
[Carter] asl?
[O'Neill] ...you KNOW all of that, Carter.
[Carter] Oh. Fine. You know, the one time I'm drunk enough to even consider breaking the regs and having cybersex with you, and you blow me off.
[O'Neill] sex?
[Carter] Yes. I'm horny. Pete's an idiot.
[O'Neill] ...so, you'd like to have sex.
[Carter] With my hand, at this rate.
[Carter] I mean, really, sir. It's not like we haven't saved the planet, and don't deserve a little happiness. And self-sacrifice isn't cutting it anymore. And I don't have any more batteries.
[Carter] Sir?
[Carter] This isn't funny, sir. Say something.
* O'Neill has quit [ping timeout]
[Carter] ...damn.

Sam was still fuming at the empty channel when her doorbell rang. She shot a glance at the clock. One a.m.

Great. So there were drunken frat boys on her doorstep. She was half-tempted to ignore it, but then it rang again. And it was obvious the General wasn't going to get his ass back on-line.

The General was standing on her doorstep, hands in his pockets.

"...sir?"

"Can I come in?"

"I..."

His gaze was intent on her eyes for a moment, and he half-shrugged, "You, uh... aren't still...?"

Oh. Her eyes widened, and she stepped back. "Yeah. I am."

"Good."

The door slammed shut, but she wasn't paying attention. She was being kissed rather ruthlessly, her back against the wall. It wasn't a nice kiss, but it was exactly what she'd needed.

By the time his hands were under her shirt, one of hers was already down his pants while the other dragged at his shoulder. "Bed." she managed before nipping her way down his jaw and neck. Bed would be nice, in fact. Not that she needed horizontal.

A growl was her only answer, and then he apparently had decided to forgo the bed because his fingers slid down the front of her pants. She was already slick, her body having decided hours before that sex was what it wanted. A pleased whisper echoed in her ears, and then his fingers were sliding into her and she wondered dazedly if sex with Jack O'Neill was supposed to be like this.

"C'mon, Carter," the words were said against the skin of her neck while his fingers twisted inside of her.

Her hand closed around his cock.

A groan escaped him and his fingers quickened, thumb brushing across her clitoris.

Just as the muscles in her began to go rigid with the impending climax, his hand stopped. So she bit his bare shoulder.

"Ow! Damnit, Carter!" He yanked her off, and her head slammed into the wall.

"Bastard."

"Shut up." His hands stripped her pants and underwear off, and he yanked her back against him.

"Fine." Shifting, she got his pants down enough and then leaned back, drew up a leg, and waited.

Now, of course, he was pulling back to look at her. "You --"

"Yes."

"Good." Naked skin slid along her thigh and then something rather larger than his fingers rubbed against her.

"Sir..."

He stilled under her fingers, his entire body stiffening. "Carter."

"What?" Her eyes were half-lidded with passion, her insides thrumming with need.

He thrust burying himself inside of her with ease, "That's 'what, General'."

"Stop playing with semantics and fuck me. Sir."

"Always willin'," he pulled out, then pushed back in at a slightly different angle, his hand dragging her leg up higher, "to oblige a lady."

"I'm not," it was Janet's fault her nails were red-tipped and long, she dragged them down his back, nicking the skin, "a lady."

"You're right."

"I'm always right."

"Ladies don't talk when they're --"

She twisted her hips and flexed her inner muscles, "You're still talking."

"Right. No talking."

Her hand dragged his head to hers. "Smart man."

"They made me a General, didn't they?"

"Mmm."

Considering how close she'd been before, she wasn't surprised that she began to climax almost as soon as his thumb brushed against her clitoris again. It didn't take *him* long, either, but she supposed that had to do with being old, or something.

At the moment, she didn't care. She'd been fucked against a wall by a General. *Her* General.

"I am?" His lips tickled the skin below her ear.

They were still standing, slowly recovering together, the sweat and fluids making them sticky. "Hrm?"

"Your General."

"Said that out loud, did I?"

"Right before you thanked God for giving me to you."

Her arms tightened around him. "You don't mind being considered my own personal sex toy, do you?"

"Not at all. My knees might not forgive me, though."

"I did suggest the bed."

"But you didn't," his fingers were toying with a nipple, "insist."

"We could go there now."

"We could."

She moved her head and kissed his neck, "Bed is much more comfortable, sir."

"If you insist." His fingers tightened, pinching the nipple.

Her back arched, thrusting her breasts against him harder. "Do now."

"This," he informed her, stepping back and turning her towards her bedroom, "Is much better than cybersex."

"Yup." She reached back and caught his hand. "It definitely is."

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!