Jack's mouth twitched.
Seeing his expression, Sam groaned and turned around, shuffling back down the hallway to her kitchen. "Go on, then," she called back at him testily, "laugh!"
Trying his damnedest *not* to laugh, Jack closed the door behind him, his face splitting into the hugest grin in an effort to expel some of his humor.
It didn't work.
He snorted.
Loudly.
"I heard that!"
Well, what did she expect? He was used to seeing her pristine, perfect, every hair in place, every button done up and crease ironed. Not all warm and rumpled from just getting out of bed, her hair sticking up like a porcupine and her eyes still half closed.
Chuckling, Jack shrugged out of his coat and hung it up on her coat rack. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the wet drops of water that he had collected on the jog from his truck up to her front door. Damn, what a miserable day: overcast, with nearly steady downpour. It was a day to hide out at home and not go anywhere.
Which was kinda his plan.
He wandered into the kitchen and leaned on the island, watching her pad around in her pajamas making her breakfast. "Didn't realize you slept in so late."
"I don't," she said, before stuffing a piece of bagel into her mouth and chewing fiercely. She was beginning to look slightly more bright-eyed. "Usually."
"Late night?" he teased knowingly. They'd been on the phone for nearly four hours the previous night and if he thought beyond the general feeling of glee at the fact that he actually had someone to talk to on the phone for four hours, it might have occurred to him just how sappy he was becoming.
Sappy + Jack O'Neill?
Really shouldn't be happening.
She smirked at him and sipped her orange juice. "Someone wouldn't put down the phone."
Knowing she too was teasing him, but seemingly unable to stop himself, he countered, "I gave you plenty of opportunities to hang up!"
She laughed silently and leaned across the table to kiss him on the mouth. "Morning."
Kissing her back, he smiled, wondering how he had ever got by without kissing her every morning. Particularly when she was all warm and soft from sleep and wearing that cute little blue top. Hello cleavage! "Mornin'."
Sighing, Sam stood back up and stretched (yowza!). "I'm gonna go get changed."
Damn, no more cleavage. At least... not right now. "Not on my account, I hope." He mock-leered at her.
Sam stuck her tongue out at him. "Actually, I'm getting cold. Don't eat my bagel."
The moment she left the kitchen, Jack's eyes zoomed in on the bagel. Sitting on the pretty blue plate. Cream cheese spread thickly on top of it, with little ridges and bumps and a perfect bite mark on one side where Sam had taken a chunk out.
It was calling to him.
"Jack?" she said, sounding very nearby for someone who was supposed to be getting changed.
He could just take a little bite... a tiny, tiny bite. She wouldn't notice. "Ummm?"
"I'm watching you eying my bagel, Jack O'Neill."
He spun around on the stool and tried to look innocent. Sensing it wasn't working - she was looking amused and superior again - he decided to go for a different tactic. "That was quick." Wait. "Hey, you haven't changed."
"Your observation skills are really something," she said, walking towards him with her arms crossed over that little top, essentially pushing... her... up.
Cleavage. Wow. Really. So... mmm.
Okay, Jack. Look. Away. From. The. Cleavage.
He fixed his eyes on her face. Not such a hardship, after all. "Did you come back for the bagel?"
"Um... no."
He pulled his legs up and hooked his shoes onto the stool supports, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Can I eat the bagel?"
Not unsurprisingly, she rolled her eyes. "Do you think of anything besides food?"
Cleavage? Wait, no, he'd get The Look for that. Dammit, she was being extra distracting today. He wondered if it was too early to start making out on the couch yet. That way his fingers could explore inside the top.
Oh yeah.
"Sure. Sometimes I think about... hockey." He grinned and he really hoped it was charming and that it completely covered up the fact that he was mentally taking her top off...
He was in so much trouble.
"I'm up here, Jack."
Shit!
He dragged his eyes up to her face, wincing and apologetic. "I'm really, *really* sorry," he said genuinely.
Surprisingly, Sam didn't seem to look pissed at all. In fact... that superior-amused look was back on her face. "It's okay. I wore the little one on purpose."
Okay, the strap on her right shoulder was slipping. It was, in fact, falling from her shoulder. Look at that. Naked shoulder. "The... huh?"
"I have a couple of pajama tops. This one's the smaller one."
Smaller? What? Who? Wait a... "Oh."
Jack's brain was having problems connecting. Did retirement make you slow? he wondered, trying desperately to follow her line of thinking.
She leaned her head forward a little bit and dropped her hands onto his knees lightly, her fingernails lightly scraping his jeans. "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"
He swallowed, with difficulty, his eyes flickering from the cleavage and back to her face. "Oh, I'm beginning... to get a clue." And yes, his voice was squeaky.
Sam hovered in front of him, her eyes lowered. "I know we wanted to take this slow."
"Uh... we did?" He swallowed again. Gee, that lump in his throat was really quite something. "Did we discuss this?"
"Noooo. I figured... I mean, I assumed we'd date for a while first. Particularly considering... how awkward those first dates were. We needed to get to know each other better."
That had been true. Awkward. Very little cleavage in the first dates. "Yeah. We were taking it slow." Man, she had bea-u-ti-ful breasts. And they were right *there*.
"So, I was thinking..." Sam glanced up at him, smiling slightly.
"Uh?"
"We could... speed things up just a bit."
Dragging his eyes up again - dammit, he *was* a pig. "You want to..." He left the sentence hanging. Mostly because he figured if he said the words aloud, this morning - hello! Still morning! - fantasy of his would dissolve.
And all he'd have left would be the bagel.
"Are you amenable?"
"Are you *kidding*?"
*
This was faintly surreal, she thought giddily, pulling him by his hand into her bedroom and kicking the door closed behind her. Only half an hour before he'd arrived, she'd been lying face down in bed, having a very active dream involving him, no clothes and, strangely, several slices of cheese but then cheese always ended up in her dream somehow.
Once, she'd had a dream about David Hassel -
What the hell was she doing? David Hasselhoff? Cheese?
Hello? *Jack*. Soon-to-be-naked-Jack!
Focus, girl!
She pushed him back onto the bed, much to his apparent surprise because he propped himself up on his elbows and raised his eyebrows at her.
She lowered herself down to the floor, which gave her a somewhat... interesting view. "Gonna get your boots for you," she said in explanation, laughing.
"Oh, right." His eyebrows waggled. "And there I was thinking you were going to have your way with me."
"Give me two minutes," she said, holding up two fingers confidently.
He flopped back onto the bed, arms spread either side of him and sighed. "Oh, today is gonna be a good day."
She pulled at his laces - wishing that they had never been invented and everyone instead used Velcro. Laces were hellishly hard to deal with when your hands were shaking. Velcro would be far quicker.
Finally!
She tossed one boot over her shoulder, then threw the other down under the bed. She pulled his socks off at the same time, then clambered up onto the bed, crawling over him so she could look down into his face.
Jack was looking pretty happy, his eyes alight with amusement. "Hi," he said, his hands tugging at her top, sliding his long fingers across her skin lightly.
Fairly endeared by his need to greet her, she smiled back at him, her hands going to touch the sides of his head. She stroked his hair, following the downward trend to rest her fingertips under his ears. "Hi." She lowered her head and kissed him lightly, taking this moment of tenderness while she could and enjoying the way each beat of her heart seemed thicker, more resonant with each passing moment.
They drew back and Sam kept her forehead against his, studying his eyes close up. "Did you have serious plans for us today?"
"Uh... strangely," he kissed her again, tongue tasting her carefully, his fingers moving up and down her sides more firmly and insistently, his thumbs always halting just short of their goal, "no. Not plans as serious as this."
"Good. Didn't want to disrupt," Oh God, he tasted *wonderful*, "anything."
"Hey, I like disruptions. I give you full permission to," he sucked in a breath as she lowered her hips down and moved them suggestively against him, "to, um, disrupt me with this any time." The fingers toyed with the edge of the top while one hand continued to slide up and down her side. "Can I take this off now?"
"That was the general idea."
"Just checkin'." Sitting up, he pulled the top up over her head with her help and flung it haphazardly across the room where it crashed into the numerous perfume bottles she kept on her vanity table.
They both looked across the room. Then back at each other.
"Sorry," he said, not sounding remotely sorry.
"It's okay."
Jack slid his hands up to just short of her breasts, his eyes suddenly going completely serious. Slowly - too *damn* slowly - his fingers crept over her breasts, warm hands eventually cupping them. A particular smile she'd seen on his face on only a couple of occasions before twisted his mouth, a smile that was innately predatory and somehow the sexiest thing she had ever seen.
He then lifted his head and held eye contact with her for a long moment. In his eyes was everything that was in his smile. She couldn't have spoken if she wanted to.
Jack kissed her and this time the tenderness was replaced by something infinitely more primitive. Kissed her again. Kissed her harder and fiercer and twisted her down onto her back underneath him.
Oh.
Boy.
Wordlessly, she started to pull his sweater up, dragging it over his head and noticing strange, tiny details with sudden and absolute clarity, feeling like she needed to memorize these moments - the way his hair was swept up by the movement of the sweater, the expression on his face, the scar through his eyebrow and lines around his eyes.
His hand was sliding under her pajama pants and, going against instinct, she grabbed his hand and shook her head. "Not yet," she whispered, pushing him and coaxing him to roll over onto his back again.
He was confused, that much was clear, but willing to do as she bid - in this case, simply lying there while she touched his chest, running her fingers over the hard and the soft planes of him. Not perfect, her Jack, she thought with a half smile, but perfect for her. She chuckled lightly when her hand coasted over his abdomen and he sucked in his stomach. "You don't have to do that," she said softly, sitting back on his thighs and carefully undoing the button of his jeans.
"I'm not eighteen any more, " he said, frowning, his brows lowered.
"And I, for one, am glad." Wickedly, she scraped a thumbnail down the fly of his jeans and his hips jerked against her hand.
Yeah.
Today was gonna be a good day.
Story Notes: Matter of Tact 06: Email: randomleaves@yahoo.co.uk
Archive: SJD, please
Spoilers: Season 7, but just the big one. Everything else is just me making stuff up.
A/N: Sequel to Nearly RST and set a couple of weeks later. Much thanks to Emry and Mel, plus all the people who feedbacked while I was holiday. The, er, holiday was the reason why this hasn't been updated in a week. Sorry.
Archive: SJD, please
Spoilers: Season 7, but just the big one. Everything else is just me making stuff up.
A/N: Sequel to Nearly RST and set a couple of weeks later. Much thanks to Emry and Mel, plus all the people who feedbacked while I was holiday. The, er, holiday was the reason why this hasn't been updated in a week. Sorry.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]