Title: Heightened Sensation
Genre: Absolute Smut
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Length: short
Spoilers: URGO
Timeline: Season Three… during URGO
Synopsis: **“He also seems to be able to enhance our enjoyment of certain experiences in order to motivate us.” ~ Daniel, URGO**
Feedback: YES!
Disclaimer: I make no money for this. Wish I did. . . but oh, well. No copyright infringement intended.
**“He also seems to be able to enhance our enjoyment of certain experiences in order to motivate us.” ~ Daniel, URGO**
Sam nearly ran down the hall away from the infirmary to her lab. She needed space. Needed to breathe.
**Needed a cold shower!**
She swung the door shut behind her, but her own foot caught on it and it stopped several inches short of latching. Sam didn’t care, marching into the dark lab, not bothering with lights, and bracing her hands into the edge of her table as soon as she neared it. She couldn’t calm her breathing, couldn’t cool the heated flush that smothered her skin, couldn’t ignore the ache in her center.
**God, he smelled so damn good!**
Sitting beside her on the infirmary bed, leaning just a little in her direction, the whole time Urgo and Janet talked all Sam could think about was Jack O’Neill. The warmth she could feel pressing against her from his body, the underlying masculine scent that was masked by his soap and shampoo. The way his hair looked silver against the brown that still remained. She had wanted to reach out and stroke her fingers through it. Was it coarse and thick? Soft and surprisingly silky? Was it long enough to curl her fists into as his hot mouth sucked on her. . .
“Oh, God. . .” she moaned, a sizzling flutter of arousal spiraling out from her stomach.
That cold shower just became absolutely necessary.
Two feet from the door, Sam stopped short as it pushed open and Jack stepped in. “Hey, Carter. Whatcha doin’?”
Sam closed her eyes and took a step back into the room, trying not to groan as her breasts tightened and her breath hitched at the sound of his voice. She couldn’t look at him. If she did. . .
“Carter, you okay?”
She swallowed. **Control, Sam! Get control! You are the only one this is happening to! Get over it!** She opened her eyes and squared her shoulders, looking at her commanding officer.
Who watched her with eyes as dark as chocolate, hooded with heavy lids as he looked at her.
“F-fine, sir,” she managed to choke out. “I – I came to check on a theory I had about Urgo.”
“Yeah? Find anything?”
“I haven’t had a chance to yet, sir.”
“Ah.”
He stepped into the lab, and finished closing the door. The soft click sent chills over her skin, and she knew – just knew – her entire body was going to burst into flames at any moment. Unless she got that cold shower… or release.
**NO! The idea was insane! Wrong! Wronger than wrong!**
Sam closed her eyes and backed up until her hips bumped the table behind her. Her hands shot out, instinctively moving to catch a piece of equipment before it fell.
But Jack was faster, catching it with one hand. The movement closed all space between them, and his chest brushed her breast as he straightened and reached past her to set the machinery on the table. Sam couldn’t control her breathing as it came in quick, short pants and the ache between her thighs was almost painful. She barely fought the urge to tilt her hips and rub her thighs across his own.
“Carter, are you sure you’re all right?”
His voice was different, lower, rougher. Coming from somewhere so deep in his chest, Sam wondered if she could feel the vibration of it through his whole body if she touched him. She was on the brink of insanity, that was the only explanation she could pull together in her brain as she raised her eyes and focused on the perfectly sculpted shape of his lower lip.
“No, sir. I don’t think I am. . . ”
“You look flushed.” He brought his hand up, and rested the back of his fingers against her forehead. Sensation and arousal spiked through her, tingling and pounding and throbbing and she trembled.
“Please. . . ” she managed to whisper. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to…” Her throat was a clenched fist around her voice. “touch me, s-sir.”
Sam raised her chin by degrees and looked into his eyes. What she saw there stole her breath and pulled a whimper from her throat. Desire. Blatant and hot and undeniable desire.
“Jack. . . ”
He shifted, sliding against her to pin her between the edge of the table and his body. The slither of cloth against cloth against skin sent another wave of need tingling up her spine. Sam purred low in her throat.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” His voice was velvet on stone.
“You--“ She couldn’t think, stumbling with finishing the question, as his fingertips skimmed over the backs of her hands and up the bare skin of her arms. --too?”
Jack leaned into her, their bodies brushing, and hovered his lips near her ear. His cheek so close to hers she felt the heat, but not the touch. “Oh, yeah. Why do you think I’m wearing a jacket?”
He rocked his hips against her stomach, and even through the heavy BDU jacket she felt the undeniably **hard** evidence of his erection. Sam’s entire body flushed, and she never wanted anything more than to press her palm to the distended fly of his pants and test the theory about big-handed men.
Jack drew his fingers down the sides of her body from her shoulders, following the swell of her breasts, his thumbs pausing to circle around her nipples as they hardened and beaded through the thin cotton of her tee shirt.
“Oh. God. Jack. . . ”
He pinched them simultaneously, and Sam’s entire body arched and her head fell back. Everything throbbed and tingled and tightened, and before the scream could rip its way from her throat, Jack’s large hand covered her mouth and he yanked her to him. Sam couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see through the haze.
“Tell me something, Carter,” he whispered against her ear, his lips barely touching her skin as he took his hand from her mouth. “Is it anyone on the base?” His hand slipped from behind her back, over her hip to cup her through the restrictive fabric of her pants. “Or is it just me?”
She shook her head as she squirmed against his hand. Damn pants! What she wouldn’t give to feel those long, elegant fingers inside her…
“Sam?”
“J-just you. . .”
“You smell like strawberries.” His tongue traced the curve of her ear and Sam moved against him, the turmoil building in her. “That’s all I could smell in the infirmary. Strawberries.”
He moved his head so their mouths hovered near each other, their breath mingled, and Sam tipped her chin up to try and seal the contact. Jack pulled back, looking into her eyes.
“Tell me to stop, Sam.” She didn’t know if it was a request or a plea.
“I can’t.”
His hot, open mouth came against hers, his tongue filling her and battling with her own. They slid against each other and she reveled in the taste of him. Coffee and whipped cream and mint.
“We can’t. . . ” he started to say, moving his lips along her jaw to her throat. His hand slipped deeper between her thighs, his strong fingers applying pressure in all the right places, as he rubbed his erection against her stomach.
Sam nodded, wishing for oblivion. “I know. . . ”
“I’d love to see the look on your face when you came.” His admission sent an icy flush through her, curling in her stomach and making her insides liquefy and pool at the juncture of her thighs.
“It wouldn’t take much. . . ”
Jack pulled back from sucking on her earlobe to look down into her face. His eyes skimmed over her features, and Sam felt it as real as a caress. She fought to breathe, fought to not fly apart in a thousand pieces. Holding her gaze, Jack moved his hands to her belt and began pulling the buckle loose.
“Jack--“
“Let me do this.” His voice was heavy and rough and wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
Sam closed her eyes as he unzipped the BDU pants and his large hands curled around her hips before he pushed the pants and her panties down her thighs. His hands were warm as he slipped them beneath the hem of her tee shirt, caressing her stomach, hips and waist. She gripped the edge of the table behind her, needing it to stay on her feet as he gently nudged her legs apart.
Everything inside her quivered in anticipation as he slid one long, strong finger between the slick lips of her sex, and then inside.
“Oh. God!” she cried out, but her scream was lost in his mouth as he kissed her.
One hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place to deepen the kiss while the other plunged and stroked her deep. Sam moved with him, meeting each thrust as he added a finger – then two – and rocked her at a painstakingly perfect speed. His thumb sought out and found her clitoris, and never had Sam imagined a man with such skillful hands.
“Jack,” she whispered, her voice almost gone. His name was the only word she could form in her sex-hazed brain. “Jack.”
His fingers touched her cheek, gently caressing. A sharp contrast to the fevered pitch below. “Look at me, Sam.”
Somehow, she managed to open her eyes and look up at him.
“Don’t close your eyes.”
The strokes changed, gentled then strengthened, and it was enough to send her to oblivion. In a cataclysmic shower of chaos, everything coiled and shattered and she groaned as her orgasm came. Jack pushed his finger deeper, letting her body tighten and embrace him as wave after wave washed over her. His eyelids slid over his dark eyes, but he never looked away from her face.
As the final wave crested and receded, Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, drawing her last drops of strength from her body. His fingers left her, and he pulled her pants up to her waist before wrapping his arms around her to pull her into a gentle embrace.
Sam sucked desperately needed oxygen into her lungs and rested her head against his chest, inhaling the scent of him. She slipped her arms beneath his jacket to circle his waist. His hand stroked her hair. As the lingering spasms slowly died, the ramifications of what they had done – what she had let him do to her – pushed through the fog his touch had created.
Jack pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re thinking too much.”
Sam chuckled. “That’s what I do.”
“Stop.”
“But, Jack--“
He moved back and pressed a finger to her lips, arching his brows. “Shush.”
She smiled and pursed her lips against his finger. “What about you?” she whispered, drawing one hand slowly around his waist to the front of his pants.
Jack grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand. “Don’t you worry about me.”
“But--“
He silenced her with a quick kiss before resting his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes. “Knowing that look on your face, and knowing I did it--that’s enough for me.”
Sam smiled, but it quickly disappeared when her phone rang. She reached for it, not leaving the warm circle of his body, and picked it up with a trembling hand.
“Hello?”
“It’s Daniel. General Hammond wants us in the briefing room. Do you know where Jack is?”
“Um, yeah. I’ll get him. Is Urgo with you?”
“Yes. He’s actually being very… quiet.”
“Okay. We’ll be there soon.”
“’kay.”
Jack took the receiver from her and hung it up, leaning in closer to do it. Sam drew in a breath, her nose tingling with the mingled scent of the two of them. He touched her cheeks, his fingertips barely whispering over her skin, and Sam looked up at him. Seriousness had replaced the relaxed expression of moments before.
“When we leave here. . . ”
Sam nodded. “I know.”
He cupped her jaw and covered her lips with his own, drawing a breath through his nose as he kissed her deep. Then he wrapped his arms around her body and nuzzled his face against her throat with a low, rumbling moan.
Then he released her and turned to walk stiffly to the door. Sam was tucking her shirt back in and buttoning her pants when he stopped and looked back at her.
“Oh, Carter. . . ”
“Yes?”
“Next time I see that look in your eyes, you damn well better believe there’ll be a lot less clothes and a lot more time.”
Sam sucked in a breath as a new wave of heat washed over her. Jack grinned, one corner of his mouth tipping up followed by the other. He winked and opened the door.
She released the pent up air in her lungs and headed for the locker room. A change of clothes was definitely in order. Sam tipped her head and drew in the scent that still clung to her tee shirt. This shirt was never going in the laundry!
