Fandom: SG the_library_au
Warnings: Sex. And that's it.
Summery: AU, Follow on from How To Be Clueless About Your Relationship
Notes: It's basically just sex. 1256 words. Tap pants.
Jack O’Neill was not going to be disturbed.
He pulled himself up off Sam and her sofa, standing and pulling at his jeans to make himself a little more comfortable. His jeans had been tight enough before he’d found his hands up Sam’s top, their hips and lips connected.
He left her on the sofa, dishevelled and a little confused as he made his way around her house. She heard him lock her front door and then a click as he pulled out the phone line from it’s socket. When he came back into the room, he pulled out his cell phone and switched it off, then held out his hand to Sam.
“What?” She asked amused.
“Your cell phone.” Laughing she got up and rooted her phone out of her leather jacket. She handed it to him and he switched it off.
“Any more phones in the house?” He asked. Instead of answering she kissed him again, hard, hands running up his neck and into his hair. She backed him up against the nearest wall, before she pulled away from the kiss.
“No.” She told him, grinning.
“Good.” He flipped her around so her back was pressed against the wall, grinding his hips into hers slowly. She moaned softly.
“Bedroom?” He asked, kissing her jaw line and nipping at her neck. She shook her head.
“Right here.” She whispered. He looked up at her and smirked, more than a little amused and relieved.
He kissed her lips again, pushing her back even harder into her lounge wall. If this is what she wanted, he wasn’t going to argue. As they kissed, lips and tongues and the very essence of her mingling with him, he ran his hands up under her blouse to rest on her waist for just a moment before smoothing them around and up her back, his hips slowly rubbing against hers. He could hold out, really he could, he just needed a little something.
When she arched towards him, he slipped his hands further up her back to undo her bra, and he quickly set about removing her blouse. He remembered the feel of her breasts in his hands, like the memory was burnt into his palms and once she was semi-naked before him he bent his head to take a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard on it, making her moan. He smiled at the sounds, his hand coming up to play with her other nipple, pinching it and she hissed.
“Jack.” He didn’t respond, instead he ran his tongue around her nipples while his hands started to pull at her waistband and her own hands moved from bracing herself against the wall, to his shirt, trying to undo the buttons. In frustration he let go of her nipple with one last bite, and one last moan, ripping his shirt off and then pulling down her trousers.
He had to step back when he realised what underwear she was wearing.
“Tap pants?” He said with a groan. She smiled, eyebrows raised, and tried not to laugh, “I love tap pants.” He tugged at the black material, running a hand around to her ass. He kissed her, lips hard against her once more, and reached into her underwear, smoothing his hand over her ass before moving round to run a finger over her centre and the wetness there.
He moaned and pressed down on her clit, causing her to cry out and buck against his hand and fumble desperately at his fly, still kissing her the entire time, her back flat against her lounge wall. He used his other hands to help her, and slid his middle finger into her body. She made soft little gasping noises that he fell in love with immediately.
He managed to shake his jeans to the floor and step out of them, while fingering her, his thumb flicking her clit and lips fighting with hers for pleasure. For something.
He fought with his boxers too, wanting to keep contact with her, his fingers inside her, barely moving and her hands on his shoulders, gripping hard as she kissed him, seemingly oblivious to his struggle.
When he was free, the boxers a pile by his feet, he pulled his fingers from her forcefully and she cried out in pleasure from the friction, moaning at the loss and when he finally got a moment to look at her face, he found her eyes were squeezed shut, face scrunched up and flushed red, hair everywhere and he was amazed that anyone could look so cute during sex. During a fuck up against the decidedly sweet yellow paint of her den.
He lifted her up, and back against the wall hard, slamming her into it so hard it shook the picture by her head and her eyes shot open. He entered her slowly, she was tight and almost couldn’t take it, take him. He pulled out before pushing in again, listening to her cries, trying to decide if she was enjoying to pain or not.
Jack was dying.
When he was fully, finally, completely inside her, his erection surrounded by warmth, he stopped, took a breath, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on tight as he remained still.
“Hold on a sec.”
“Really, really good.” She laughed and he went from nothing to everything in moments, thrusting hard into her, pushing her hard into the wall and somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledged that her wall sounded hollow. Somewhere in the back of his mind, with the in and out, the grip of her legs and her cries, he wondered if he could break the plaster wall.
Though he was very aware that he would break long before the wall did. The feel of her body pressed against his, and her cries and the ‘unuh’ noises she made in his ear when he thrust in and up, the way her legs tightened when he pulled out. The feel of her strong thighs in his hands, the smell of her and sweat and sex and the way she had closed her eyes again and couldn’t or wouldn’t open them, even when he asked, pleaded, begged. He wanted more, and he moved faster, harder, and he wanted all he could get from her, every little part of her soul.
He forgot all about that when she came, back arching out, just her shoulders touching the wall, eyes still closed, nails digging into his shoulders and her cries turning into a little mantra of ‘Jack, ah, ah’ that was a hell of a turn on. Not that he needed turning on anymore than he already was, but he had all of her, every part, body, heart, screaming in pleasure and crying in sorrow, he’d seen it all now, seen all of her, had all of her and he came with a cry of his own, the thrusts turning into sporadic shakes into her body until he was done. Dead.
He pulled away from her, out of her, with a groan and she hissed and whimpered as she slid down the wall to her feet, eyes still closed, legs shaking.
“Okay Sam?” He whispered.
“Yeah.” She was leaning on him heavily, her arms around his waist now, head buried in his shoulder. “Really, really..yeah.” He lifted her head up and saw she was smiling, eyes still closed.
“Wanna open your eyes?”
“It’s too much of an effort.” He laughed and kissed her.