All Hailey
by B. Cavis

Category: Adult, First Time, Humor, Romance
Season: Season 6
Pairing(s): Jack/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Content: adult themes/mature scenes, graphic sex, language, sex, sexual situations

All Hailey
by B. Cavis

I was drunk. That's all I'm saying on the matter if asked. Lesson Number One: It's good to have your responses planned out in advance, just in case you need to give a quick answer to a superior officer. One of those things they teach us in the Academy.

Somehow, I don't think this type of situation was covered in the textbook.

Not like anyone's going to ask, mind you. Oh no, I never intend on being asked what I was doing in Major Carter's bathroom at 0200 on this fine Thursday morn, while her CO fucked her brains out in the next room. Because no one is ever going to find out. NEVER EVER.

And the techies are going to own my ass for it too, damn it. I'm going to be fetching them coffee and Star Trek episodes for the rest of this decade...

Colonel O'Neill gives a particularly deep thrust. I know this because Major Carter gives a particularly loud groan/whimper combination cry out as he does so.

...Maybe I can get some Voyager on DVD to save time.

As attractive, smart, and funny as the woman is, being known as "Simmons--you know, the one who has the crush on Major Carter" gets tiresome. Very tiresome, very quickly.

Which is not to say it isn't entirely true, because it is. How anyone with half a brain not love someone as incredible as the blonde woman currently crying out her release in the next room is beyond me. Honesty; she's smart, sexy, capable of handling a P-90, and clothed in skin softer than Chinese silk. Anyone who doesn't immediately fall down to their knees and worship at the alter that is Samantha Carter deserves to have their head examined by Dr. Mackenzie. For a day session. A whole day.

The fools. The poor, poor fools. Doomed to an existence that does not involve this woman, this earth bound goddess in fatigues; denied her presence and the loving caress of her heart warming aqua gaze...

Okay, so I've had a while to think about this. Sue me. (Right now, I'm just trying very hard not to blow my wad as I watch my very own private skin flick. Excuse me if I go a little off topic.)

Unfortunately, being one of the few on base who's infatuation with the delicious woman who is currently having her routine gynecological exam done a little early (by a man who's qualifications as a doctor are someone questionable) does have it's down sides. Like the constant teasing, mocking, and all around torment visited upon me by my peers.

One of whom is now Jennifer Hailey. Who's fault this all is.

"So you're saying you've never even gone out on a date with her?" It had been another one of those hard, long days at the SGC. The ones where the conductors in the gate room shock people, the security system screws up and locks a very short tempered Cadet in a closet, and a very bored Colonel starts playing football with a very bored Jaffa, and hits a very hard working and conscientious Lieutenant in the face in the process. General Hammond was letting us drink, me and Hailey, that is.

Hailey was starting to slur her "t"s by the time we started talking about Major Carter. From what the base gossip pool tells me, Major Carter got Hailey the clearance to come here in the first place, in order to keep here from getting kicked out of the Academy due to her boredom and a very stubborn nature.

The first I know nothing about. The second, I will attest to in front of Congress, God, and even General Hammond if need be. Which is why Hailey is also to blame for my current predicament. It's all her, damn it. Completely Hailey. Sounds like a breakfast cereal. Or a sitcom. I'd laugh if that wouldn't bring the two people making whoopee in the next room running in.

"No," I told her firmly, hoping she'd get the hint and drop the conversational string. "And my chances for the future aren't looking all that great either." Hailey was knocked into by a man I vaguely remembered as Lieutenant Jameson, and glared at his oblivious rear. "I'll get over it. Sooner or later. It's not as bad as it was before--now I can control the woody I get whenever she comes in the room." Hey, I'm a guy. A mere mortal put up against a C4 carrying goddess in boots. I never had a chance. This thought occurred to me right about then as well, and I took a depressed swig of my drink, some strong concoction that Hailey had specially prepared for me that I'm sure had some reference to sex or nipples or orgasms in the name.

"You're a good looking guy, Graham," she waved a hand in dismissal of my fast approaching bad mood. "Sam would have to be crazy not to even consider it." She reached out and smoothed my sweaty cowlick into submission. "I think you're selling yourself short."

I laughed. "Yeah. A real looker. Compared to Colonel O'Neill, I'm about as much of an option, sexually, as her brother."

Hailey recoiled. "Colonel O'Neill? What's he got to do with anything?"

Like she didn't know, remarked my inner sarcastic bastard. Everyone knew. "They're, oh how should I put this delicately... fucking like bunnies, Hail."

"Oh no their not." She looked shocked at the very idea. Somewhere in the back of my head, I remembered that she'd been on a very stressful mission just a few months ago, and then trained with the Colonel to join up with the SGC. She's spent time with the both of them, in dangerous, emotional situations. The kinds of situations where feelings get all confessed and out in the open. A little flame of hope started to flicker in my other wise dark and horny as hell soul.

Reality, however, took control once more, and I snorted at her. "You haven't been here long enough to hear about the Zatarc testing, the alternate realities, Samantha, the arm bands, Edora-"

"They're not sleeping together," she reaffirmed.

"How can you be so sure?" Ha, I thought, riddle me that Little Miss Smarty-pants.

"Because Major Carter went out on a date tonight." She flicked one of the peanuts off the table to hit Lieutenant Jameson in the back of the head. "I heard her and Dr. Fraiser talking in the Infirmary during lunch." Lieutenant Jameson whirled around to glare at a random airman against the wall, fists clenched. Hailey and I watched with interest as the beginnings of a fight were tampered down by a quick glance from the General in their direction.

"She went on a date?" I was appalled. The devil I knew was one thing, but to have to deal with an entirely new hurdle in the way of my pathetic worshiping of her... Crap. Dramatic, depressed sigh.

"Mmhm." The General shot an amused look at Hailey, who blushed and looked away apologetically. "But look on the bright side-- I doubt she enjoyed it."

"And why is that?" I was actually pretty eager to know. Not just for my own patheticness, but also because if Hailey was becoming omnipotent, I wanted in on the ground floor. Never hurts to have friends who can tell you if the girl who dumped you in high school works at McDonalds today.

Hailey pointed in the general direction of the door. "Because she just started towards her quarters."

I thought I was so suave, so Carey Grant-ish. The hero, the white knight in BDUs. I was going to save Major Carter from her post-bad-date despair.

I am such a spaz. And Hailey is soooo dead.

"You could go be...a good guy." Her head was beginning to loll on her shoulders, and I was starting to see an outline of Hailey in places where there was no Hailey.

"Wha?" The kitchen staff had stopped supplying us with alcohol ten minutes ago, by General Hammond's orders. Since we were off duty, we weren't technically breaking any laws or regulations, but Hammond had told us in no uncertain terms that we were staying in on base guest quarters tonight, and confiscated our keys. ("Silly bald man," giggled Hailey, before starting up on a A-Z Alphabet of the SGC. "'H' is for Hammond. He has a red phone. 'J' is for..." "You forgot 'I'." "Shut up your face. 'J' is for...")

"Be Maj'r C's buddy."

"Buddee?" God, what had Hailey put in those drinks?"

"Mmm. Everyone needs a buddy. 'Special after a bad date." She took the straw from her glass and blew alcohol in my direction. "Bad dates are all sucky, and bad, and sucky." She twirled a piece of hair around her finger. "And bad."

"Be Maj'r C's bud-bud... friendly person? Nah, Dr. Jacks'n Five would come whooshing through the wall, all glowy and bright and grr and take my place." I made a little growling Daniel with my hand. Hand puppets rock.

"Nuh uh." She shook her head emphatically, her hair whipping back and forth. "Dr. D's off leapin' buil'ins with a single bound." She stuck her hands straight up in the air over her head. "Whoosh!"

"Still don't think 's' a good idea."

Hailey giggled. "You wanna get layyyyyyd?"

I nodded quickly back. "Yuh huh."

"Well I'd do you in a sec, Gra'm, but I'm," she leaned closer and whispered loudly to me, "on my period."

I pulled back, nodding seriously. "Ah. Good reas'n. 'S'okay."

She nodded firmly. "Yep. So since I can't, you gotta get Maj'r C. Maj'r C looks like she'd be all creative and funky in bed. Blond's have more fun, y'know?"

Honestly, it made sense at the time. I promise it did. Really. Believe me, please. I can look all pathetic and pleading; would you like me to look all pathetic and pleading?

Hailey picked the lock on Major Carter's door, though how she managed to see the door at all is still a mystery to me, and gave me a tipsy pat on the back. "Go get'er, you sly doug you." She giggled. "Called ya Doug." I giggled back. It was a manly giggle. Honest.

"'M gonna get some," I told her, all joking aside. She nodded back.

"Good sol'ier." She saluted me with the wrong hand, then began the trek down the hallway, surprisingly steady given the circumstances. I set my jaw firmly and put my back as straight as it could go without losing control of my neck muscles and letting my head roll around aimlessly.

Focus, I told myself, and managed to grab the right doorknob out of the three before my eyes. Slowly, the door opened, and taking a deep breath, I put one foot in front of the other and walked into the Holy Land. Major Carter's bedroom.

Angels sang. Honest. Hallelujah choir and all. Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, screw 'em all. My Deity could slay them all with a wave of her long fingered, naquadah bomb controlling hand.

"Maj'r Ca'ter? You here?" No answer. On the bedside table, an old fashioned alarm clock ticked out the seconds. "You sure you're not here?" Still nothing. I nodded firmly. "M'Kay. I'll wait."

I sat on the bed. And waited.

And waited.

And then, just for a change of pace, I waited some more with my legs crossed to the other side. Oh yeah, I am such a rebel. Look out, cuz I'll grab my biker bitch and we'll open a twelve pack of whoop ass on you, and then make you drink it all, because wasting alcohol is bad and wasteful and makes that part of me that's still in high school cringe at the thought of not consuming available booze.

Yeah. Look out. You'll get smacked down, bi-otch.

And then I got to thinking, and nothing good ever comes of me thinking. But I did anyhow, and I started wondering about whether or not everything was, you know, clean down there. I took a shower yesterday, but it wasn't a very long shower, more a jump and go. For all I knew, I could have a little piece of toilet paper still stuck to my wee wee.

And let me tell you, there is nothing that turns a woman off more than seeing a little piece of toilet paper stuck to the end of your wee wee.

Drunk man's logic. It always makes a great deal of sense at the time. And if you were a drunk man right now, it would make sense to you too.

Well, I couldn't have my first time with my Goddess soiled by a dirty sex organ: there was no way she would like that. So I jumped up and ran/walked/stumbled drunkenly into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light, bumping the door with my hip so it obscured me and my little experiment in cleanliness, and got to work.

Let me tell you, there is nothing sadder than a drunk man washing his willy in the bathroom sink. If you ever get bored with your spouse, or want a good laugh at your brother's expense, just load them up on Bacardi and plant the idea in their heads.

I turned off the sink and wiped my hands on my pants, then began to look around for something to dry myself off.

I was just zipping my still wet cock back up when I heard the door open and shut rather dramatically, the lights flicking on to a low setting. I grinned, preparing myself for the tryst at hand, and had every intention of moving out into the room, when I heard a voice.

A voice that was most definitely not Major Carter's.

"You should have told me."

"Told you what?" Ah, that was my goddess. Unfortunately, unless she'd developed a second personality, one that sounded very much like her CO, I doubted she was alone. That would be kind of cool, though, don't you think? Hearing Colonel O'Neill's voice come out of Major Carter?

Well, I think it would be. Shut up.

She was still talking, almost like she couldn't bring herself to stop the flow of words coming out of her beautiful lips. "That I went on a stupid date with some schmuck who a girlfriend decided to set me up with. Someone who couldn't find my clit with color coded instructions, a flashlight, and help from the coast guard?"

"You owe me that much," Colonel O'Neill told her, in a voice that left no room for argument. At least, not for the normal person. But as we all know, Major Carter is not a normal woman. Don't make me go back into her holiness again, because I will, and I will never come back out.

"I owe you?" Well, that sounded indignant. This is boring, I thought. Go back to talking about her clit.

"Did you sleep with him?"


I was so not liking where this conversation was going. This was sounding more and more like a lover's quarrel, and if that was the case, it meant I was not getting laid tonight. At least, not by Major Carter.

"I don't think you have the right to ask me that question." I got down on my hands and knees, careful not to make any noise or bump into anything (though I did step on my own hand a couple of times) and peered cautiously out through the crack in the door.

Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill were mere inches away from each other, in the center of the room, to the left of the bed. Her make-up had worn off in places, leaving her looking more than a little worn but still overwhelmingly beautiful. The Colonel was holding her by the arms, staring intensely into her face, while she fumed at him, her chest pushed out to help her confidence along.

Mmm, Major Carter's chest...

Off topic.

"We're not dating, sir, " she practically hissed at him. "We're not married. We're not even socially fucking. What rights could you possibly have? Huh?."

The Colonel was obviously liking where this was going just about as much as I was. "I have rights in this, Carter," he annunciated each word firmly. "I have enough rights in this thing we're doing for you to tell me what's going on in your life. In that section of your life."

"Which section is that, my sex life?" Oh yeah, now this was getting good. "You, Mr. Big and Mighty Colonel, are not involved in my sex life, remember? You had the opportunity, you turned it down. Your rights, as you put it, are gone."

Wait just a second... he turned her down? Jack O'Neill turned down Samantha Carter? A sexual come on by Samantha Carter?

Why is that no one tells me when Hell freezes over?

"I turned you down, yes." His grip on her arms hadn't weakened, but now he had moved his hands up to her shoulders, in order to keep her from looking or turning away from their conversation. "I turned you down because you didn't understand what you were asking for."

That went over real well.

"I didn't understand what I was asking for?" That was a pissed off voice if ever I heard one. I almost expected her to start calling him Jonathan <Insert Middle Name Here> O'Neill and stomp her foot. "I knew very well what I was asking for, sir. I was asking for something besides the blanket you put over me to keep me warm. I was asking for you." The wind deflated from her sails, and her shoulders slumped as her eyes left his. "I was asking for you, Jack."

The Colonel let out a heavy, shaking sigh and looked down at where his hands were resting on her shoulders. "I know. You'd been drinking."

When she answered, her voice was little more than a whisper. "That didn't mean that what I said wasn't the truth. It's called Dutch courage, Jack. I couldn't ask you for it without a little bit of help." A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "And since having Janet on the phone during the whole thing would have gotten a little bit awkward, I settled for the next best thing."

He chuckled gently, but focused still on the place his hands were resting. "Then what you said that night... it wasn't just a Tequila induced thing?" His fingers were tensing and relaxing on her shoulders.


"You'd be willing to ignore the regs?" He almost sounded like he was making her say it for her sake, rather than for his. She looked up at him and blinked.

"Yes. For this, I would." He rubbed his chin with a hand, before quickly returning it to her shoulder.

"And what? Just keep it a secret?"

"Well I wasn't intending on announcing it to the whole base, if that's what your suggesting." She was sounding a little bit short tempered now. "But yes, we could just keep it a secret. I have no problems with having sex with you, having a relationship with you during my downtime, and going through the 'gate with you the next day. I think we're both mature enough, professional enough to do th-"

And Colonel O'Neill ran his hands down to Major Carter, his 2IC's ass, and pulled her to him, groin to groin, body to body, and lips to lips. She grabbed at the back of his head desperately, clinging to his mouth as if her very life depended on it. One of his hands worked between them to begin to unbutton her shirt. The hand that wasn't keeping her cemented to the focal point of their lips untangled from around the Colonel's neck to reciprocate.

Clothes started flying off, and I stared transfixed as I was made witness to the erotic beauty that was Major Carter's blue lace panties and matching bra. Mm...

She pulled away as the Colonel snapped the aforementioned bra off her, and I almost cried out in agony. Don't stop now, I thought. It was just getting to the good part.

I was so into this. Way too into this for my own good. It had ceased to be an issue for me that I wasn't actually the one doing the sex. What mattered was that one of us, and by us I mean the viable men in the SGC, was having sex with Major Carter, and I got to watch. You go, Colonel. You in da house! It's ya birthday, it's ya birthday. I did a little victory wiggle for him, since his body seemed to be otherwise occupied.

"Second thoughts?" He questioned. She let out a sound that was suspiciously close to a snort.

"Hell no. Just a question of neccesity--you're clean?"

Ah. And reality rears its ugly STD riddled head.

"Yes," he told her. "Janet tested me after our last mission. You?"

"Same." She paused. "I didn't sleep with him. He wasn't taller than me." He grinned widely. "He wasn't," she defended. "Just consider it a charming personality trait and leave it be. And I'm on the pill." He gave a satisfied nod and rubbed his knee between the apex of her thighs teasingly, eliciting a gasp from deep in her diaphragm.

Okay, I thought, now that that's out of the way, we can get down to the main event. LET'S GET IT ON!

The Colonel, a man for whom my respect for is growing by the second at this point, did this move that probably served him very well in black ops, in which he hooks his foot around her ankle and pulls and pushes on her shoulders at the same time. I didn't really see the logistics that well. But needless to say, the end result was a very topless, almost entirely nude Samantha Carter stretched out on the bed.

But instead of getting up on the bed with her, like any sane human being would (as well as some of the alien ones: apparently, Narim and Martouf were pretty damn intelligent and pretty damn hot to trot) he got down on his knees and hooked his thumbs in her panties, pulling them off in one swift tug. My drunken mind was still sort of confused at this point. He was going to have sex with her, right? I mean, the Colonel didn't have some kind of weird foot fetish that involved spanking of some kind and black leather and really cute pumps, did he? Though I had to admit that seeing Major Carter in some fuck me shoes would be a rather nice way to spend the evening, but that was besides the point. The point was that I was just getting accustomed to this whole voyeuristic, "I'm going to watch two commanding officers have premarital sex while in the middle of their assigned compound" thing. Weird shit would probably be just a little too much for my stomach to handle.

But, instead of whipping out some chains and stockings, the Colonel--okay, since I'm watching the man have sex with a junior officer, I think I've earned the right to call him Jack, don't you? Jack grabbed hold of Sam's (she prefers it to Samantha) legs and spread her thighs apart, opening her to his view and mine.


All I can say is, yes, you bet your ass she's a real blonde. And as Hailey so kindly pointed out for us earlier, blonde's have more fun. Jack took a deep breath, almost like he was breathing her in, licked his lips, and dove.

And Major Samantha Carter of the SGC squealed.

Jack made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but since his mouth was full, it was kind of hard to tell. One of his hands came up to hold her still, press down on her stomach to keep her from arching off the bed entirely. The other one came up to join his mouth. I couldn't see everything at this point, as his body and her legs were sort of blocking the view (but oh what lovely legs they are) but judging from the way his hand sunk in to what otherwise would have been solid flesh, I'm guessing he'd just started fingering her. I could see his thumb battling with his tongue for control of her clit, alternating between laps and swipes, with a little bit of pressure here and there.

With each lap, Sam made a little panting noise, and with each swipe her head thrashed on the bed, blond hair mussed and tousled deliciously. I so wanted to get up and go to her side, to see if she'd let me taste those berry red nipples resting on top of those incredible breasts. I doubted, however, that the Colonel--Jack--would have shared with me. Not that I blame him, mind you. If I'd had Major Carter naked and writhing underneath me, and let's speculate for the sake of this argument that I could get her naked and writhing underneath me, I wouldn't stop if the President told me to, and I'd bite anyone who tried to get me to let her go. Oh yeah. That was a nice image.

Jack pulled his head back, giving her clit a farewell lick, but keeping his fingers hard at work. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this to you, Sam?"

She gasped for breath. "Nuh uhhhhh..." One of her hands came up to tangle in his hair, trying to direct him back to where she wanted him, but he chuckled and shook her grip off.

"Nope. Not yet. Waited too long for this to let it end so quickly." He pressed down on her clit a little harder and started making little circles with his thumb. Sam's entire body shivered. "Besides, Major, I'm not entirely sure you're ready for this."

I have never seen a woman so turned on and angry at the same time. "I'm... going to hu... hurt you if you doooooo..." He dug a callous into the hood of her clit, grinning at her all the while, and any complaints died off.

"Now now, is that anyway to talk to your commanding officer? Sounds really disrespectful, don't you think?" Sam gave a gasping cry on the bed, and I found myself forgetting to swallow. I'd been rubbing myself through my jeans this entire time. I was aching, hard as diamond, and all I wanted to do was unzip my pants and go at it, but there was a very good chance they'd hear me undo myself, or that they'd hear my release. They were, after all, SG-1's military members. They had been trained to sense such things as perverted drunk men masturbating in bathrooms. It was in the handbook. Right after the section on what to do if they were ever attacked by hostile sheep.

"Sir... pleaaaaase..." The keening cry that worked itself out of her throat was so needy, so pleading, that I hardly recognized it as belonging to Sam. I'd never heard her as anything besides in control and command. To hear her sound so wanton.... God it was wonderful.

Apparently, Jack had liked the sound of it too, because he lowered his head to her once more. And after a few seconds, he bit down on her clit.

Her body arched up off the bed, her heels digging in to the side of it, hips up in the air. Her hands came up to grab at the blond locks pooling by her head, as if to center her in reality. To say Sam screeched would be disrespectful to a commanding officer, but damn it that's exactly what she did. And Jack just sat back and watched the ride with lidded eyes, his fingers and mouth still moving, his teeth (I could tell by the way his jaw tensed) chattering on the little nubin that had moved this incredible woman to such heights.

Her body gave one final heave before collapsing back on the bed, her chest moving up and down rapidly, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat. I watched as Jack sat back, leaving the comforts of her body, and examining his sticky fingers. Then he stuck one nonchalantly in his mouth, sucking her essence off each digit. This was repeated several times until each one was clean, and then he licked his lips with a smile.

Sam had watched him clean the last two fingers with half lidded eyes. "You are too good at that," she told him, her voice little more than a groan.

He grinned, looking for all intensive purposes like the cat that got the canary. "Why thank you." He climbed onto the bed, straddling her limp thighs and pressing a kiss to her lips. "You taste good."

"Thanks, I think." She pulled at his boxers. "Too many clothes, Jack." His lips turned up in a soft smile.

"Jack." She blinked at him.

"Well, it's your name, isn't it. Colonel isn't really appropriate considering we could be court marshaled for this." Silence. The harsh reality of what they were doing was sinking in. I watched as she mentally kicked herself for ruining the mood, wincing. He let out a bone weary sigh, then leaned down to nibble on her collar bone.

"I am so liking how quickly you got into the name thing."

She let out a deep breath, obviously glad she hadn't triggered anger or second thoughts. His mouth was sealed to hers quickly for one of the longest kisses I've ever seen, broken only when she snapped his waistband.

"Boxers, Jack. Off." He pressed a final kiss to her and sat back on his haunches. She took the opportunity to scoot up on the bed and position herself strategically. Jack stood up and pulled the boxers, black with little Asgard heads on them, down his legs.

And I suddenly started to understand why all those goa'uld hate Colonel Jack O'Neill so much.

Sam grinned. "Oh, you I like." He chuckled and climbed up on the bed beside her, his cock bobbing against his stomach.

"Is that so?"

"Mm. You're my new favorite." He stuck his hands back between her legs, pushing her thighs up and apart untill she was wide open for him, heels locked just below his shoulder blades. "My absolute be- ohh."

I knew what that ohh meant. It was a telling ohh. It was the ohh that just signified the Jack O'Neill had slipped that cock of his into his 2IC, consummating their relationship on this beautiful Thursday morning, at 0200.

It was also the ohh that signified the loss of my microscopic chances with Major Samantha Carter. And the imminent death of Jennifer Hailey, whose fault this all is.

Oh yes, all Hailey.

So here I sit, in the bathroom of the woman who has just become the lover of the 2IC of this base, watching the aforementioned 2IC start to move himself in and out of her body.

It has got to be the tightest fit, the snuggest squeeze ever, and my heart and cock ache at the fact that it's not me who's in there, instead of this man. Don't get me wrong: I like the Colonel. Really, he's an okay guy. If it had to be someone besides me who got together with Sam, I'm glad it's him.

But the fact remains that it's not me.


"Jack, oh God, Jack." Oh, shut up woman. Can't you see I'm trying hard enough not to think about what he's doing to you in there. I try and block it out. I really do--I don't need this image swimming around in my head. Not at all.

But what can you do. Fecundatio ab extra: shit happens. And the only thing left to do is make the most of the situation. Right? Right.

So I sit myself in a primo position, and watch as the woman I've been in lust with for the past five years moves her body in contrast with the man pounding into her. And boy is he pounding. With each withdraw she raises her hips up to keep as much of him inside her as possible, and with each thrust downwards, she is shoved back to the mattress, despite her attempts to meet his pumping.

Her hands grab at his back, scratching at his shoulders and leaving thin white lines that quickly go red all along his skin. He groans at the feeling, the speed increasing. He leans down so his elbow is bent and resting next to her head, and grabs one of her legs with his free hand, pulling her closer and himself further into her.

"Sam, Sam, Sam..." He's practically growling now. "Oh Christ you feel so good... Move that ass for me, baby." She pants for breath, her eyes locked on his and her body strung like a bow.

I think she's trying to talk back to him, but each thrust of their hips robs her of her words and breath, and her thoughts go unvoiced. He bites her neck gently. "God I love you," he groans out. It's weird; in a situation like this, you'd expect the confession to sound trite; forced. But it doesn't. He said it, and it sounds real. Honest.

"God, love you... I love you Jack!" Her voice is louder than normal; she had to yell in order to get it out of her lungs with enough force for it to be heard.

I'm suddenly aware that I am watching a very private, very intimate moment between two very private and intimate people. People who were trained to follow the rules of the Air Force and the regulations set forth for them by the US Government. Two people who are so enamored with each other that they've gone against everything they've been taught to believe is right and just, in order to be with each other.

I'm getting misty eyed, honest.

They're getting closer. The Colonel's thrusts are more erratic now, more jerky motions, and Sam's gorging his back as her hips work frantically to keep up the pace. With each thrust against him, her whole body quakes.

I've never been with a multi-orgasmic woman, or anyone who could come twice in one night. Not from lack of trying, mind you. From what they tell me, I'm actually pretty decent in bed. I've just never met a woman who wasn't so worn out, so over sensitized from her first that a second was possible.

Gentlemen, meet Samantha Carter. Unfortunately, I think she might be taken.

One of her arms goes down between them and I can tell she's working her clit as he thrusts into her. He groans in approval, and pulls her closer to him. The headboard is banging against the wall, and I know they're glad each room is insulated. We had to do that when the goa'uld were here; it wouldn't do to have Nirti hearing about a strip poker game in the room next to hers and want to join. Goa'uld do not play good strip poker. If you try and tell them they lost this hand, they have this irritating tendency to blast you through the wall, and then take your underwear in retaliation. Never play strip poker with a goa'uld. Bad, bad idea.

Okay, I think I'm done.

And apparently, so are they. Because at this very moment, Sam is sobbing out her pleasure to the heavens, while Jack gnaws on her neck, their hips blurs against the bed spread. He makes a noise like a wounded animal, a deep howl, and makes a few final thrusts against her. Sam's hand is moving frantically now, I can see it through their legs, and as he pushes in for the last time, he hits her fingers in what must be just the right spot, because she cries out and arches up for the second time that night, crying out at the feeling.

And I cream my shorts, silently screaming out my involuntary release to the ceiling.

Eventually, everything calms down enough for me to realize what's happening. Jack and Sam pulled the blankets back at some point, and are now lying together on the queen sized bed. She pulls her head up to lay it on his chest, and he tangles his left hand in her hair to draw her in for one more kiss.

"I love you," he whispers to her, reaffirming his earlier statement. She snuggles into his side.

"And I you, Jack. God how I love you." She puts her head down on his bare chest, breathing him in deep. He pulls the covers up over them, smirking as he sees the large wet stain on the blue comforter.

"We're going to have to bribe the laundry boys."

She blinks sleepily at it. "They like me. I tell them all about our various adventures. They really don't like Anise, by the way."

"Oh, is that so?" He manages to sound pretty innocent. I'd heard she'd come on to him during that whole Zatarc thing.

"Mm, Tok'ra Spice." The Colonel makes something that sounds like a giggle, but I'm sure I'm wrong.

"No giggling," she tells him, sleep invading her voice and belittling the order.

"Yes ma'am," he salutes, and reaches over to turn down the lights to their lowest setting. "Get some sleep, Sammie."

"Hmm..." She's already there. He watches her as she snores ever so lightly on his chest, then shakes his head and lies back, closing his own eyes and making an attempt for sleep.

I wait a good half an hour after his breathing evens out to sneak out of the room. The Colonel was black ops, after all. No one's quite sure how much of his personality is real and how much of it is a carefully planned out facade. For example, most everyone thinks he's stupid, just some dumb military jock they keep around because he can shoot things and make them go boom. If you took the time to actually look at some of his test scores, you'd be pretty shocked. He's no Homer Simpson. Well, he could be the Homer that had the crayon removed from his brain, but not the normal every day Homer.

Simpson's rules.

So like I said, one can't be too careful. I manage to sneak out into the hallway without anyone seeing me, and without the Colonel raising holy hell. Once there, I lean back against the hall and take a deep shuddering breath. The camera in the corner looks suspiciously unplugged. I wonder if the Colonel and Major did it, or if it was the work of my friendly neighborhood Haileybird.

Hailey. Remember to kill Hailey.

But first, I have to go and make myself the AV Geeks' bitch for the rest of eternity. Excuse me. Shouldn't take long.

That morning, in addition to being severely hung over, Hailey is severely regretful. She pleads with me for forgiveness the moment she sees me, and asks me several times if I was sure that nothing had happened that would involve any disciplinary actions. I told her that nothing had happened on my part, and left it at that.

I saw the Colonel and the Major at breakfast. Neither one of them looked any different. They didn't sit closer or farther apart, didn't look up at each other any more or less. There is absolutely no indication to the fact that Major Samantha Carter and Colonel Jack O'Neill had sex last night, incredible sex at that, and then confessed their love for each other and fell asleep side by side. No signs whatsoever.

But if one was to look closely, one would notice the bright red bite mark that mars Major Carter creamy neck, and the way that Colonel O'Neill is favoring his back; never sitting all the way in his chair.

And as for me, well, I think I'll find something to peek my romantic interests. Like maybe Jennifer Hailey, who spoke today and as I listened I had to wonder if she had always been so beautiful, so smart, so funny, and so kind hearted, and why the hell I'd never noticed before how great the sunlight makes her hair look when it catches it in just the right way.

All in all, not much has changed around here since that night/early Thursday morning that found me crouched in Samantha Carter's bathroom, listening to the thumping of her headboard against the wall and the cries that issued from her pale throat. I can look them in the eye now, where I couldn't before, content in the knowledge that they are human beings like the rest of us, though perhaps just a little bit nuttier than most. They've found each other, and I can't begrudge them the happiness they've discovered in each others arms.

I got to tell you, though, it makes it damn hard to take Colonel O'Neill seriously when he's talking, considering I've seen those Thor splattered boxers.

They glow in the dark you know.



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