TITLE: Until Morning

AUTHOR: SelDear

EMAIL: SelDear

SUMMARY: He has until morning.

CATEGORY: Romance, Angst, Challenge

PAIRING: Sam-Jack (and a squidgy bit of another pairing to start with!)

SPOILERS: General, vague ones for all seasons

SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: Season Six

STATUS: complete

RATING: NC-17

CONTENT WARNING: Graphic sex

DATE: 23rd December

ARCHIVED: SJA

DISCLAIMER: (To the tune and rhythm of "His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad..." - for my sister Louisa!)
These characters don't belong to this fic-writer,
And this line of writing don't pay;
I wish they were mine - they're really divine,
To archive, please ask me, okay?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I said I'd never do a smutfic again, but my longfics aren't going as well as I'd like so this was a welcome relief. It's an answer to the SJ NC-17 List Christmas Challenge which required:
1. Mistletoe.
2. Any type of traditional Christmas food.
3. An item of red clothing.
4. The list motto, "Screw the regs!"
5. NC-17 rating. Oh yeah, and bittersweet ending. Just so you know not to bother with the: "couldn't you make it happy?" complaints.

*

Janet looked like she was enjoying Jonas' kiss under the mistletoe.

Sam wasn't entirely sure where her team-mate had learned to kiss quite so expertly - possibly one of those things that she would rather not know - but if Janet was enjoying the results, then it was good. At least *someone* got their Christmas kiss.

She wasn't even going to *think* about not getting a Christmas kiss - it was pretty pointless for her to wish, one way or another. It never stopped her from hoping.

Warm breath tickled her ear, making her start a little. "How long do you think before they have to come up for air?"

Sam didn't turn since his proximity was such that if she turned, she'd be standing right up against him. Not good in their situation. And she was sure General Hammond was still around somewhere - it wouldn't do to be caught in a compromising position. "Given how long Jonas can hold his breath, I think he could probably keep going for another minute or two. But Janet should need some air about now..."

On cue, the two broke apart and stared at each other like a pair of fools.

The Colonel chuckled, "Cue violins..."

Sam elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "Sir..."

"What?" They were in the far corner of Janet's living room, out of the melee of people - and a long way from where their hostess was looking dazedly into Jonas' eyes. "She enjoyed it, he enjoyed it. They live happily ever after. End of story."

"Real life never ends like that, sir." Sam knew that her voice was betraying a certain tiredness - but she had no other way to chide him for his unsurpassed optimism.

"Maybe not for some," he said and Sam heard the gentle note in it that said more than just his words. *It's not going to end like that for us.*

"Not for some," she said, just as quietly, agreeing with both the spoken and unspoken statements.

And they stood there silent and together - just for a little while - on the edge of the noise and laughter of Janet's Christmas party.

A comfortable quiet existed between them, undaunted by the noise and the good cheer, content in each other's presence, and peaceful at this time when the call went out for 'peace on Earth'. Certainly there was no peace outside of Earth at present. The war against the Goa'uld went on.

In a way, Sam reflected as Jonas' eyes followed a now-embarrassed Janet around the room, it was good to see friends finding a little joy in their lives. Even if she didn't have the kind of joy she'd have liked in her own.

"Carter?" His voice broke into her reverie and she glanced over at him. "More eggnog?"

She handed her cup to him and smiled, "Thanks."

When he came back with her eggnog, she'd have to move away somewhere else. It wouldn't do to spend all night in each other's company - people would begin to talk. Or at least, talk more than they already were talking.

Truthfully, it was annoying. Nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen. They were friends - good friends, close friends - people who cared. And yet every step had to be watched, every touch had to be regulated, every act of concern had to be restrained.

Sam was tired of being restrained.

But she had no choice.

He returned with the cup of eggnog, a plate of cookies, and Cassie in tow. After checking that Cassie's cup contained only orange juice ("Honestly! You're worse than Mom!"), the three set into the cookies and chatted in between crumby mouthfuls.

The Colonel asked after "that boy you were dating last time I saw you" and Cassie reluctantly admitted she had a new boyfriend. Sam smirked crumbs - she'd heard about it several weeks before - while the Colonel started grilling Cassie until the teenager rolled her eyes and refused to answer any more questions, leaving to go and talk with someone she saw across the room.

'Someone she saw across the room' turned out to be Jonas who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but talking to the adopted daughter of the woman he'd just kissed in the middle of her Christmas party.

Sam grinned in spite of herself, "You've heard of the 'shotgun' talk, sir?"

He snorted, "I've been given it several times."

She turned and regarded him in surprise, "Several times, sir?"

He ducked his head. "Uh, yeah. Various high school girlfriends and Sara's Dad. Nothing lately, though."

Sam laughed. "Well, it looks like Jonas is getting whatever the equivalent of the 'shotgun' talk is from a woman's daughter."

As usual, Jonas looked earnest, while Cassie looked like she was trying to be stern and parental, but failing. After a minute, Janet dragged her daughter away, sending her off to carry around a tray of nibbles to the guests.

The Colonel shook his head. "All different types and kinds, Carter. All different types and kinds."

Sam grinned, then levered herself off the wall. "I think I'll keep wandering around, sir."

He shot her a brief smile and nodded, accepting the need for them to spend time around other people, and she walked by him - but not before his fingers slid down the inside of his arm.

She wondered about the touch for the rest of the night. A soft, gentle caress - unnoticed in the candlelight of the party, but felt along the skin of her arm and the sensual shudder that ran down her spine. He'd touched her before and it was different - friend to friend, colleague to colleague...

But the fingers that traced down the soft inside of her upper arm...warm through her red satin shirt...

Sam banished such thoughts from her mind with fierce determination. Christmas was a lonely time of year anyway - full of family and laughter and home warmth. It made a single woman prone to thinking that maybe the husband and two-point-something children in a house with a white picket fence would be nice after all.

The problem was twofold. Firstly, she was needed in the SGC where the work was not conducive to family life. And secondly, there was the man whose eyes she could feel upon her as she wandered around the room.

They stayed away from each other for the rest of the night, quietly aware of their proximity. Quietly aware of the tension stretching thinly between them and how delicate it was.

It was dangerous ground to accept a lift home from him in the lightly falling snow. Sam knew that. But she climbed into the passenger seat of his truck anyway.

It was playing with fire to lean across and claim his mouth in hers when the truck stopped outside her house. The Colonel knew that. But he responded anyway.

And it was completely wrong to take his hand and lead him up the path amidst the light snow and draw him into the warmth of her house.

They both knew that.

But when the door was shut behind him, he didn't waste any time in pulling her into his arms and bringing his mouth down on hers.

He smelled of aftershave and musky sweat. One thigh edged between her legs, and the hands holding onto her hips shifted her closer against him. And they kissed.

Soft, slow kisses at first, lightly teasing each other's lips, spicy sweetness lingering in the taste of him. Brandy on his breath and chocolate in his mouth.

Sam slid her hand up over his shoulder and into his hair, ruffling crisp grey strands through her fingers and caressing the nape of his neck.

He lifted his head from hers, "Sam," he said, talking softly. "This...are you sure...?"

She covered his lips with her finger. "Think of it as your Christmas present, Jack."

A kiss landed lightly on her fingertips. "Screw the regs?"

The skin under her fingers was firm and textured with the puckered remnants of old scars as she traced along his cheekbone. "With all due respect, sir, I'd rather screw you."

Dark eyes reflected a glitter of desire and an amused tenderness, "Sam, are you sure? This isn't something we can put away and never speak of."

She kissed him, gently. "I'm sure." After the year that had been - after so many losses: friends, allies, Daniel... After everything that had gone before, Sam was tired of holding to the regulations. "Are you?"

His return kiss was long and deep and lingering and excitement stirred in her belly, even as he took her hand and stepped away. "Where's the bedroom?" They walked down the hallway and she indicated the door.

She lit tea-light candles as he worked out how to turn on the small space heater in the far corner of the room. Then he turned out the lights and it was just them and the silence of the snow outside.

They stared at each other in the semi-darkness, old fears rising up and being put to rest. And then he crossed the room and bent slightly to kiss her. Softly at first, then deeper as desire flared and excitement fizzled through their bodies.

Sam pressed her hands against his torso, feeling the heat of his body through his flannel shirt, smelling the distinct, musky tones of him as she eased his jacket off his shoulders and began unbuttoning his shirt. In return, his hands stroked lightly over the material of her top, caressing the skin beneath, even as he broke off their kiss and began unbuttoning her shirt.

His shirt fluttered to the floor, his hands momentarily removed from her as they tugged the cuffs free of his hands with a laugh as one of the buttons refused to give.

Then he was upon her again, lean scented muscle moving her backwards, until her knees hit the bed and she scrambled up on it.

"Boots on the bed, Carter?" He indicated her footwear and she stuck one foot out in a smiling imperious command for him to take it off.

Slowly, he pushed up the hem of her jeans, his fingers tracing her calf in a surprisingly erotic caress. The zipper was pulled down and the boot removed, leaving her sock-clad foot in his hands. Sam watched as he glanced up at her and held her gaze as he removed the sock by touch alone, stroking the sensitive instep before laying a single kiss on it.

"My feet smell you know," she said, not entirely teasing as he pulled off her other boot and drew the sock off her other foot.

He kissed the instep and the tip of his nose ran lightly along the base of her foot. "Really?" He made a show of sniffing her foot from heel to toe. "I can't smell anything..." Then he grinned broadly as his lips closed around her big toe and he sucked it lightly. Sam gasped and pulled her foot from his grasp. "Sam?"

She got to her knees, crawling to the edge of the bed and pulling him down so he was seated beside her. She knelt down and untied his boots, pulling them and his socks off and tossing them away without utilising the seduction techniques he'd employed.

After that, she let herself be pulled into his arms and kissed with systematic completeness.

It began with only her mouth and face, but after some time, he stared moving down to her throat...then her shoulders...then the open neck of her shirt...

Sam gasped as his mouth traced down to the edge of her bra, then nuzzled under it to reach the sensitive nipple before he lifted his head from her tingling skin. "Too much clothing."

In response to his grumble, Sam pushed him away and got off the bed. Simply and methodically, she began undressing, slipping her shirt from her shoulders, then her jeans from her hips. He caught her hand as she reached for her bra clasp. "Let me," he said and coaxed her into straddling his hips.

Expecting him to reach for the straps, she was surprised when he just leaned back a little and surveyed her from face to groin. "Scarlet underwear, Carter? Isn't that non-regulation?"

She flushed, but smiled as she resisted the urge to hunch over. "I don't wear this on base, *sir*."

"Really?" he leaned in again, his fingers touching her chin as he drew her mouth down to his. "Probably just as well... If I knew you were wearing this under your BDUs, I'd never get anything done..."

The light kisses they gave each other were teasing promises of more to come. Sam let her hands explore his bare shoulders and the skin of his back, and she felt his hands circle her waist and shivered before they glided up her back.

With an expertise she didn't care to question, he undid her bra, and the undergarment slipped away from her body with a rush of cooler air. They tossed it aside, leaving her all but naked to his gaze. The Colonel - Jack, she had to call him Jack - held her arms away from her front as she instinctively tried to cross her arms over herself. It had been a while between lovers.

"It's okay," he told her, holding her gaze for a long, tender moment before his gaze skimmed down to take in the soft fullness of her bare breasts. It took a lot of self-control not to flinch as his hands slid up her arms and then gently down over her front until his fingers framed the faint curves of her. He raised his eyes to hers again, and a slow, languorous smile grew on his face. "Sweet."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Too small." Sam was aware that her figure was 'slim'; it was a good thing for a female soldier. But her ego would have liked more curves than she possessed.

"Beautiful." It didn't seem to bother him, at least. "Perfect, in fact," he told her, unblushingly. His mouth lightly brushed her lips, her shoulder blades, the hollow of her throat; then began the journey down to the valley between her breasts...

The world tilted as he leaned her back and took one nipple in his mouth, sucking it lightly. Sam clutched at the back of his neck, arching in pure pleasure at the warm tongue licking the sensitised tip. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she was beginning to feel a gentle throbbing between her thighs.

As he lifted his mouth from her skin, she heard his chuckle and lifted her head in time to see his mouth descend on her other breast, working the nipple between his tongue and his lips. An exquisite ache blossomed between her thighs - a hollow waiting to be filled and satisfied.

When he raised his head, she tilted his head back and kissed him with explicit thoroughness. One hand roamed down his bare chest, lightly caressing the flat circles of his nipples as her tongue explored his mouth.

His hands flexed on her thighs and Sam moaned softly against him as one finger slid under the edge of her panties, caressing her. Her hand clenched on his. "No," she whispered hoarsely.

"Why not?" he asked, a heavy glitter in his eyes as his fingers continued their movement - but over the soft skin of her inner thigh. "Are you rethinking?"

In response, Sam pushed him down to the bed and settled herself on his hips the thin material of her panties against the heavy fabric of his jeans. Then she rocked herself on him and watched him grit his teeth. "Not rethinking," she murmured, feeling the growing pressure against her groin as he began swelling erect. "Just changing the pace."

His hands clenched on her thighs. "If you don't stop that pace..." In a fluid move, he'd rolled her off him so she was sprawled on the bed, her elbows propping her upper body. He got off the bed and undid his belt while she admired the lean physique. Not a body-builder's frame like Teal'c, nor the well-muscled build of Jonas, but a rangy elegance that was sexy in and of itself.

He pulled off his jeans, kicking them behind him and his hands paused on the waist of his boxers as he grinned, trying to tease her.

Well, two could play at that game.

Sam sat up and slipped her hand in the elastic waistband. She watched him flush and swallow as her fingers rustled through pubic hair to his pulsing flesh. He wasn't fully erect yet, but even as she stroked the hot flesh, she felt him swell under her fingertips with satisfying immediacy. His eyes glittered with a febrile light and his fists clenched as one hand drew the silky material over his hips while the other teased him, rubbing lightly over blood-engorged flesh.

He was breathing more heavily now, air rasping harshly in his throat. She licked her lips and watched him swallow, then reached her hands up to draw him down to the mattress and to her.

Mouth met mouth, kisses teasing each other with tiny promises of fulfilment. Somewhere along the way, his hands skimmed down her back, curved over her buttocks and took the red satin panties with them. She barely remembered kicking them off her ankles - mostly because one of his hands was exploring between her thighs while the other ranged over her skin looking for sensitive spots to stroke.

There was so much *feeling* compressed into her body. His skin so warm, mouth wet, skull damp with sweat as she ran her fingers through his hair and laid soft, biting kisses over his throat and shoulders.

The yearning between her thighs became a piercing ache. "No," she gasped as his fingers began the sensual assault on her clit again. "Jack...oh, God...stop..."

He looked up at her, a mask falling over his face. "Sam?"

There was no protest as she pushed him down to the bed and straddled his hips, only the hands which glided over her, guiding her until the aching hollow hovered over the hard length of him.

His hand reached up to her face, thumb brushing her lip. "Are you sure, Sam?"

She nodded and settled the tip of his penis in the hollow of her vagina. Fierce desire warped through her body as they looked at each other, reading certainties and uncertainties in a single glance. "I'm sure," she breathed as she slowly sank down on him, feeling him penetrate her body bit by bit until he was sheathed in her.

The hollow was filled but the ache remained; Sam paused on him, poised for movement - for rhythm, for passion - poised in that terrifying moment of first carnal knowledge, knowing there was no going back.

Jack expelled a deep breath with shuddering slowness. "Carter - Sam..." There was nakedness in his eyes and not only in his body; raw tenderness in his touch as his fingers traced along her cheek and down her body, pausing to tease a nipple before gripping her thighs. "I don't know if I can control..."

Her thrust stopped his words more effectively than if she'd put her hand over his mouth. His fingers dug into the mattress as he arched against her. "Then don't," she whispered, tracing her hands over his ribcage as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"I wanted..."

"Me, too," she husked and she felt the tears well in her eyes only to have his fingers brush them away.

"No tears," he said roughly, smearing her cheek with the dampness. "Sam..."

Sam bit her lip then moved against him, renewing the ache in her groin and her bones. He gasped once, then began moving in her. The first few movements were slow, savouring the feeling of him in her. Sam keened softly as the ache sharpened to a fine point that sliced through her belly and her chest and caught in her throat - and then he brought the pace up, moving with greater abandon; thrusting into her with a rhythm she tried to match - but lost too swiftly as her body jerked and shuddered on his, her fingers clenching on his ribs.

He was hot and full and *hers* - sheathed between her thighs, with his heart under her hands.

"God, *sir*!" The orgasmic ache ran through her - exquisite agony before the rush of gratification, the hot fullness of him in her, the intensity of his expression concentrated in the dark eyes. She was hot pain for one tumultuous moment and then her cries were of sweet, incoherent relief. Her hands rubbed his chest, teased his nipples, dug into his shoulders as he continued thrusting up into her and she rode the tide of pleasure on his hips and his hands.

She arched as wave after wave of delight rippled through her and her body tingled in afterglow, but he never ceased his movements, seeking his own pleasure now hers had been captured. Sam angled her hips on his, panting, adjusting the pressure, watching his face for cues. She wanted to see him come in her - to watch him naked in soul and not just in body: a moment of relief and release in a life that sometimes seemed so fragile. He'd closed his eyes, but his mouth hung open and his head tilted back as he arched up into her, so she leaned down and slid the tip of her tongue into the hollow at the base of his throat. He tasted of sweat and raw need - salt and acid on her taste buds.

"Carter," he moaned. "Sam..." She felt his body go rigid in orgasm and rubbed herself against him, wanton as a cat.

Sam kept moving on him, slowing as his shudders died away and he relaxed beneath her. His laboured breaths eased gradually and her own pants drifted into silence.

The deed was done, the line was crossed. Knowledge was now carnal and explicit and memory would forever supply the details where none was needed.

And they still had to go back to work with each other.

The truth invaded her thoughts relentlessly, stealing a march on her mind.

A finger ran down her cheek, startling her. "You're rethinking this, aren't you?" There was no bitterness in his voice, no anger. Just quiet acceptance.

Connected as they were - his body still deeply within hers - the question bit into Sam with fangs of guilt.

Connected as they were - having shared with each other what they'd just shared - she didn't want to lie to him. Even when the truth would hurt.

So she didn't.

"Yes."

He nodded, the wide mouth turning up a little to one side in a faint, sad smile. Then his hand traced her collarbone and his finger circled her areola once before he cupped her breast. Sam shut her eyes and bit her lip at the latent sensuality in the touch. "Sam?"

Opening her eyes, she met his gaze; still loving him, still wanting him, but unable to shut up the voices in her mind that mocked and jeered her for what they'd done together.

"Can I ask a favour?"

A nod sufficed as an answer.

"I want until morning," he told her and the dark eyes never wavered from her face. "Until the daylight comes again, you're mine. You won't think about how this is gonna affect us, and I won't think about how you'll kick me out come sunrise. When morning comes, I'll leave and you can ask for a transfer or make a complaint or whatever it is you want to do to appease your conscience; and I swear I'll never mention tonight to you again."

Until morning.

Temptation swirled around her like a narcotic fog, so easily accepted. She could lie down beside him in the bed, let herself believe that this could happen tomorrow night and the night after that, next week, next month, next year...

She shouldn't.

She could.

So she eased herself off him and bent down to kiss him lightly on the mouth. "Okay," she said when she lifted her head again. "Until morning."

* * *

Jack let his hand trail over her bare skin.

He'd finally done it.

After however many years it had been, he'd finally ended up in bed with Sam Carter.

Never mind that it would only last another hour.

He hadn't really expected anything else. At least, that was what he was telling himself. He wasn't sure that he believed it, though. A part of him resonated deeply with the idea that there was a happy ending behind everything, while the cynical part - the part which still remembered the pain of Charlie and Sara - reminded him that he'd done nothing to deserve a happy ending.

Her skin shouldn't feel so soft to the touch. He leaned over and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. She shouldn't taste so sweet-salty or smell so goddamn nice.

She shouldn't respond to the kiss by turning over and smiling at him.

"Hey."

"Hey." Her fingers trailed his cheek, tenderness. Her eyes skimmed his face as she asked, "So, what happens now?"

"Whatever you want," he told her, unsure if she meant 'now' as in right now, or 'now' as in morning. They'd drowsed and kissed and cuddled and talked and made love until they were so tired they drowsed again. For Jack, there was a lingering bittersweet element to the night - the promise of morning staining the night with a poignant ache.

She wriggled closer, slipping one thigh between his and leaning her head against his shoulder. Jack put an arm around her waist and drew her up against him. "We can't do this again," she said softly.

"I know." Jack rubbed his cheek across her hair. It would be hard going back to work with her - and that could be taken two ways - and seeing her as just 'Carter' or 'Major Carter' instead of 'Sam', but he could do it. "Are we okay?"

More than anything else, he was afraid of her response, and the long pause during which she considered her answer only served to worry him more. Finally, she lifted her head from the pillow so she could look him in the eye. Her expression was sober, but her words brought relief. "We're okay."

Jack began to nod - then gasped.

A smile was growing on her lips as her fingers moved delicately across his groin. One finger traced the length of his cock - up one side, down the other. He began to harden under her caresses, flesh swelling as his body responded to the stimulus.

He dragged a breath in through unsteady lungs. "What happened...to not doing this again...?"

Sam just smiled and propped her head up as her fingers continued to swirl over his damp flesh.

Jack writhed. He wanted to lie in this bed with her hand stroking him and not move an inch. He wanted to be buried deep within her, wedged between her thighs and listening to her purr like a cat as she came on him. And he wanted to wake up in another five hours with his mouth full of short sunny hair and his hands full of soft pale skin.

However, that wasn't the way things would turn out.

So he'd enjoy what he had for as long as he had it.

His hand reached for her breast and fondled the textured nipple until it hardened under his fingertips. Meanwhile her hand was rubbing him in arrhythmic patterns; a few torturously slow strokes, then several swift forceful rubs that only excited him further.

As her fingers manipulated his erection again, Jack let out a groan and yanked his hips away from her hand. They were going too fast - at this rate he'd be ready soon - and she'd still only be halfway aroused.

"Jack?"

He almost wished she hadn't spoken. "Too fast," he husked. "Gotta slow down."

She leaned in, mouth close to his. "And what if I want it fast?" Her fingers reached for him, drew sensuously over the swollen flesh, and Jack made a lightning-swift decision.

Her wrists were slender in his grip and she didn't struggle as he rolled them over so she was trapped beneath him. Instead, she moved her hips against him, the soft curls of her mound nudging against the head of his cock. Jack nearly forgot how to speak - some stubborn part of him held desperately to the thought of swimming in the lake in the middle of winter and Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day and he retained enough sanity to grab her hips and hold them still. "Sam..."

It would be incredibly tempting to part her thighs and just thrust into her, relieving himself of the need to possess her, own her. Ease his own desperate desire and longing for the deeper intimacy sex represented without needing to worry about her own pleasure.

He dragged himself down her body, nipping tender skin with rough haste. He took the time to swirl his tongue over each nipple and listened to her moan. So he did it again - and lightly worked the bud between his teeth as she gasped, "Sir..."

Jack wondered if it would be possible to ever hear that word from her lips without thinking of tonight. Unsure if he'd like the answer, he cast that thought out into the darkness.

He closed his mouth over one dark tip and sucked with all the strength he had in him. Her hand fluttered through his hair and her throat keened encouragement and her hips moved in hungry thrusts. Between his thighs, his erection reminded him that it was still unsatisfied. Jack ignored it, choosing to listen to her incoherent cries in favour of his own needs.

When he finally raised his head, she was looking at him with hungry, naked eyes. "Did you like that?" His ego wanted to know that he satisfied her, he wanted to know that she was his, marked and branded as his and no other man's.

And if he couldn't brand her when they went out into the world - or the galaxy, then he'd do it tonight. In her room, bed, and body.

Until morning came.

She panted, the tips of her breasts rising and falling with hypnotic regularity. God, she was the sexiest woman ever made or laid...

But she was taking too long to answer the question.

Jack licked one nipple, not relinquishing her gaze, and repeated his question, his voice roughened with passion. "Did you like that, Sam?"

"Yes." The word was squeezed between her lips. It was a plea for more and Jack shifted over and took the other nipple in his mouth. The texture of her areola seemed rough under his tongue where it was smooth under his fingertips and the nub thrust eagerly between his lips as he worked the sensitive tip over and over.

Meanwhile, his hand parted her thighs and his fingers explored the damp flesh there. He stroked the tiny wedge-shaped nub and exulted in the way she bucked under his touch.

Sam Carter, in frantic lust and out of control... His cock throbbed eagerly at the thought of her moving desperately under him, seeking orgasm in his arms. Sex was desire and power and mastery and command as much as it was tenderness and intimacy and passion. But the second set of characteristics tempered the first set and balanced it out, gentling the act and blurring the line between dominant and submissive partners.

Jack dragged himself up her body and kissed her. She drank from his mouth, hand at the back of his neck and cradling his jaw as she tried to wrap her legs around his hips. Somehow, Jack evaded her and she drew her mouth from him. "I want you *now*."

He kissed her again. "I know." He was smug about it. "Just wait..."

And he slid down her body again, laying a trail of kisses down her skin as she writhed.

He drew wet curlicues on her flat stomach with the tip of his tongue, dipped lightly into her belly button, then trailed his mouth through a nest of hair to where a tiny bud awaited him.

She shuddered as he licked it and he could feel the throb of blood as he swirled his tongue over it - a pulsing rhythm of desire. And Jack was now driving the beat.

A hand flexed in his hair and her hips thrust her clit deeper into his mouth. She wanted this - wanted it so badly that self-control was cast off, dignity was abandoned, and all thought of rules and forbidden liaisons was forgotten.

Jack lavished slow attention on her, compelling her into aching need, then incandescent pleasure as she rocked against him. His own hips rubbed his erection against the cotton sheets of the bed and the curve of her calf until nothing existed but the little tip of flesh and the stimulation of his arousal. He grazed her with his teeth, deliberately scraping senses already stretched to breaking point and felt her shudder in orgasm.

His name filled the room, her voice soft and desperate in the candlelight. Jack lifted his mouth from her curls and dragged himself up her body to slide between her thighs, taking advantage of the wave she rode to spur his own yearning for the crest.

Her fingers dug into the nape of his neck and the small of his back as he heaved in her. Close enough to taste, close enough to taste...

Sensations exploded in his body, hot need driving him to thrust into wet depths. A part of him was vaguely aware she'd wrapped her legs about his hips, and his ears faintly heard her whispers of erotic encouragement through the pounding of his blood and the drive to come in her body and lose himself in her soul.

He whimpered against her throat as his body spasmed, but her hands on his shoulders were gentle and the lips that brushed over his temple were soft, even if the frenzy that overtook him made him rougher than he liked. Slowly, gradually, lassitude set in and he relaxed in her arms.

It was some time later that he lifted his head from her shoulder and she looked at him with a lazy gaze. "Satisfied?"

"Yes." He propped himself up on one elbow, "You?"

Her finger trailed down his cheek. "Yes." Her affirmation was punctuated by a soft kiss. "I don't want morning to come."

Regret rushed in. "Me neither." Then he kissed her back. "Thank you."

Her mouth quirked a little, "For this?"

"For last night and this morning."

"We probably shouldn't have..."

"But we did." He kissed her again, "We'll deal."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure."

She didn't ask about whether it would change anything. In the last few years it had changed everything.

"This was nice."

"'Nice'?" Jack was put out. *How To Deflate A Man's Ego (Among Other Things) 101. Lectures by Sam Carter.*

Her dimples were, simply put, adorable. Fingers trailed down his cheek and ran across the line of his mouth as she said lightly, "Well, if I said you were the best lover I'd had in the last ten years, it might be difficult to fit your ego out the door."

"So who holds the title in the last *twenty* years?" He asked, just a little arch, "And what do I have to do to push him out of pole position?" The humour served to ease the emotional tension of the moment. He didn't want to think about other men in her bed - in her heart. He didn't want to face the fact that he would have to leave her bed soon with no guarantee that he'd ever get the chance to return.

Carter's expression was a study of exasperation. "Sir..."

The title sounded strange to his ears, such formal protocol for such an informal setting. Jack put that thought away - there was plenty of time later to agonise over what they'd done. Instead, he quirked a smile at her and asked a question he *knew* she wouldn't answer, "How many lovers *have* you had in the last ten years, Carter?" He was fairly certain she hadn't had a steady boyfriend since she started on the Stargate Program. And she'd never seemed the one for one-night stands.

Never mind that this would effectively be a one-night stand.

Jack knew he needed to level it in his mind now, or it would eat at him with acid poison. Sam loved him in her own way, as much as she was allowed. It wasn't everything he needed, but it was all he wanted. And he hoped that in return, he was some of what she needed but, in the end, someone she wanted.

"A lady doesn't tell," she said softly. "But...Jack?" Her use of his name stopped him, caught his breath in his chest like a burr on a sweater.

"Yes?"

"I..." She stared helplessly into his face, then shut her eyes and turned her face away. "Never mind."

And, in the end, she couldn't say the words. But her attempt showed she felt what was between them as strongly as he did.

And that was enough.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck for one scented moment, "I love you, too."

He felt her freeze, then relax. One hand brushed his hair, regretfully. "I'm no good with this kind of thing."

Jack understood. It hurt a little, but the sweet was far greater than the bitter. "You're fine at it, Sam." He kissed her throat and rolled off her, fighting his way out of the tangle of sheets until his feet hit the floor. He stretched, completely aware that her eyes were taking in his figure from head to toe. He preened a little and listened to her choked laugh. Boy, was he glad he was still lean and trim - even if the hair was going grey - both above and below. "Come for a shower?"

He wanted to prolong every moment of time with her.

She slid from the bed with only a little shyness and took his hand but wouldn't meet his gaze.

Jack turned on the hot water while she got extra towels, then stepped into the cubicle and drew her in after him.

They soaped each other down under the hot spray. No foreplay, only the care they had for each other with or without sex. He scrubbed her back for her, she did the same for him, and when they were through they dried each other off with fluffy white towels.

He picked up his clothes from the night before and got dressed, while she threw on a robe.

Jack flicked his hand through his hair, spattering drops everywhere and laughing at her mock-outrage when his action got her wet again. In return, he dried her hair, rubbing the towel over her head with more enthusiasm than skill.

It was almost like being...ordinary.

He'd contemplated resigning several times - partly because of this, but also because he wanted a break. He wanted to grow old, instead of getting older. His body was giving out, his knees weren't so good anymore, his life had been spent in service for his country...surely he deserved just a little happiness back?

She ducked her head and peeked out from under the towel, smiling. "Finished?"

It could be like this every day. Ordinary, small things, no world to save, no need to hide. Jack could grow old...er, and watch her grow old. Maybe.

It could be like this every day.

It wouldn't be.

He forced a smile, "Yeah."

A sober expression crept over her face, and she leaned forward to hug him.

Slowly, his arms snaked around her and he held her tight.

Christmas was a time to remember the year that had gone by, to tally up your losses and hope they didn't outweigh the gains. To make resolutions for the coming year and to hope for better things - and maybe put plans into action towards getting those better things.

"One more year," he said into her hair, startling both himself and her.

"What?"

"One more year. That's all. I'm getting old, Sam. Going through the Stargate is for young people. Or at least younger people than me. And maybe...?" He stroked the curve of her back through the towelling robe. "Maybe when it's over..."

The arms around his chest tightened. "If it's ever over."

"Optimistic, Carter."

"Realistic, sir." She sighed and pushed gently against him. "You'd better go."

The rejection hurt. "I can't stay the day?" Her expression told him her explicit opinion of that idea. "Okay, okay..." She had a lot more to lose than he did, which was why she was so circumspect. "I'll see you at Doc's for Christmas Day?"

"Yes."

"Do you need a lift?"

She shook her head. "No."

And they stood there for a long moment. Then he held out his arms, "C'mere..."

The hug was a desperate reassurance that they were okay - that they both felt something and that there was the possibility of a future - if nothing else.

Sam drew back from him a little so he could see her face. "Merry Christmas, sir."

And he bent down to take her lips in his. "Merry Christmas, Carter."

* * *

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