Libido

Sam was incredibly nervous. Daniel watched her smooth her hair behind her ear over and over. Her hand was shaking. It was a little unusual for her to ask him to go out for dinner by themselves ... not that strange, really, but definitely not the norm. Still he couldn’t imagine what had her so keyed up. She kept making small talk and glancing around the restaurant, almost as if she were casing the place, making sure no one noticed them. It was nearly time for dessert and Daniel knew if there was a bomb to be dropped it would be any time now. He waited patiently, watching her get increasingly agitated, knowing she would tell him what was on her mind eventually.

After her fourth glass of wine, Sam finally felt fortified. It's now or never, she thought. Never. No, now... or I'm going to put myself and all of the team in terrible danger. I've got to face this thing and take care of it. Daniel will help, she reassured herself. He's my friend and we love each other. Okay, I can do this.

“Daniel, you may have noticed that I've been a little ... out of it lately.” Here it comes, he thought. “I'm having a problem... a big problem, and it's distracting me, and I've got to do something about it, and ....” She ran out of steam and looked at her friend imploringly.

Daniel took a deep breath. “Is there something I can do to help?” He watched as Sam's face colored deeply, stains of embarrassment tinging her cheeks. But she was nodding, almost compulsively.

“Janet said you'd help,” she said, something like relief in her voice.

“You talked to Janet about it?” Sam nodded. “She couldn't do anything for you?” Sam shook her head and looked down at her folded hands. “Soooo, what do you need, Sam? What can I do?” Daniel reached across the table and put his big, calloused hand on hers. Years of archaeological work, digging, scraping, dusting, cataloging had left his hands both nimble and hard, and as Sam looked down at his hand on hers, a shiver went through her.

She couldn't look at him. “I'm ... I'm frigid, Daniel.” She peeked up at him from under her lowered lashes. His expression, concern and understanding, hadn't changed. Sam took courage. “I... didn't used to be... but something happened and now... now I can't... I can't... I'm frigid.” Sam sighed. She ventured a look into his eyes.

“And...?” Daniel asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Janet and I talked about possible solutions. I tried everything she suggested... and then some. Nothing worked. Finally she suggested that maybe a... a friend... might help... someone who cared for me, who would h-h-help me find ... myself again.” Sam gathered every ounce of her self-assurance to look him full in the face. “She suggested I ask you for help.”

Daniel looked across the table at his friend for what seemed like forever. The waiter arrived with coffee and he had to release her hands, but he kept his eyes on her face, trying with every possible fiber of his body and soul to send her positive vibes, support and love. He was shocked as hell to hear this from her, but he was never, ever, going to let her know that. When the waiter finally left, Daniel cleared his throat and shoved his glasses up his nose. “Are you... are you asking me to ... uh... make love to you?”

Sam looked away, her coloring deepening, if that was even possible. She sighed, for about the thousandth time that evening. Then she turned back to her friend and nodded with far more surety than she felt. “Yes.”

* * * * * *

Daniel brought Sam home and told her he needed some time to think about it... not because he had to decide yes or no, because if that was what she needed, then that was what she'd get from him. And Sam's smile of relief was like a nova bursting through a night sky. But, Daniel told her, he needed time to plan and make arrangements. “I'll get back to you before the weekend is over,” he said, and he kissed her, first on the cheek, and then on the lips, before she turned and went into her house.

By the time Daniel got home to his place he knew he had some phone calls to make. First he called Janet. They spoke into the wee hours, Janet sharing her thoughts about the incident on P3R-118, and Daniel, who had been there, of course, confirmed her hypothesis. And after they hung up a plan slowly formed in his agile and intuitive mind.

The next morning Daniel called Sam bright and early. “We have a go,” he said to her, mimicking General Hammond. She laughed, dispelling some of her nervousness, which was his intention. They agreed to meet at his place that evening. He said, “We'll take it slow and see where we go, okay?” Sam gulped and agreed. She could barely believe she was doing this, let alone that he agreed.

She called Janet, who wasn't there. Knowing that Cassie might hear her message, she left something suitably cryptic on the machine. “Hi Janet, Sam here. Daniel and I are going to be working late tonight, so if you need to reach me, try the cell phone.” There, that ought to do it, she thought.

When Daniel hung up the phone on his end, he knew he had, perhaps, the most difficult phone call of his life to make. He dialed Jack. After some hemming and hawing, he got around to the point. “Can we talk in person?” he asked, and because it was an unusual request, Jack agreed.

A few hours later, Jack pulled his big truck into the parking lot at Starbucks, noticing Daniel's snappy European vehicle already parked. Inside, he spied his friend almost immediately, but took his time sauntering over, pausing to get coffee and flirt with the barista. “So, Danny-boy, what's on your mind?”

Never one for idle chatter, Daniel paused, considering his options. He was a careful, thorough and precise man, prone to detail and exhaustive inquiry, but equally inclined to intuitive leaps of understanding. He decided to get right to it. “You noticed that Sam's not right?” It was more of a statement than a question, but he waited for Jack's response nonetheless. He knew that Jack would take this seriously, because it was about Sam, and Sam was important to him... more important than he would ever admit.

“Yeah,” Jack said, his voice non-committal. He wasn't sure where this was going, but if Daniel dragged him out here to talk about Sam, he wasn't going to fuck around... he'd listen and consider whatever Daniel had to say.


“She came to me last night and told me what the problem is. She asked me to help her with it... and I said, yes.”

“So, what's the problem?” Jack's curiosity was piqued, but he was also a bit tweaked. If Carter had a problem, why didn't she come to him? He was her CO, after all.

“She's become frigid.”

Jack, who was sipping his coffee, choked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Daniel?” he asked, as soon as he was able.

“You heard me, Jack. Sam told me that she's been so distracted lately, because she's become frigid.” Daniel took a beat, knowing he had Jack's full attention now. “And she's asked me to ... well, to try and help her ... you know...” Daniel became uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He knew how Jack felt about Sam. He knew that Jack loved her... and he just couldn't bring himself to tell his friend that Sam wanted him to make love to her.

Jack sat across from Daniel and stared fixedly at him. “She asked you to...” And then Jack did something Daniel wasn't expecting. He expected anger, even denial. What Jack did was laugh. “Carter asked you to make her come?!? You?” Jack laughed harder, even wiping a tear from his eye and slapping his knee.

“Yes, Jack... she did,” Daniel answered dryly. He watched his friend pretend to get himself under control, still laughing. “What's the matter, Jack?” Daniel asked. “Don't think I can do it?”

“You?” Jack gasped. He tried to straighten his face. “Yeah, sure... sure, you can do it.” Then he burst out laughing again.

“Jack, I've lived all over the world, traveled the galaxy. I've learned about sex from many different cultures and societies ... so far, I've had no complaints,” Daniel said, a small smile creasing his lips. Another man might have taken offense at Jack's antics. Daniel understood them for what they were... the best defense is a strong offense, and Jack was offending, because he was defensive, hurt, angry.

“Well, knock yourself out, Daniel,” Jack said, rising, gathering his jacket to go.

Daniel reached for his friend's forearm, risking the possibility that by laying a hand on Jack, the feral part of his friend's brain might interpret the act as an attack, but Daniel really had to reach him. It was crucial to Daniel's plan. “Jack,” he said, as his hand closed over the Colonel's forearm.

Jack looked down at his arm and Daniel's hand on it. He looked back at Daniel and the archaeologist wondered where he'd seen that expression before. And then it dawned on him. Right before Jack punched his lights out and kicked him, during the incident involving what the SGC thought of as the Broca virus, Daniel saw that look, and both times it made him shudder.

Quickly, Daniel got his mouth moving, making words come out, before his most primitive instinct, to flee, kicked in, or all the spit dried up in his mouth. “She couldn't ask you,” Daniel said softly.

* * * * * *

The evening was lovely. Daniel made pasta with vegetables and fish for dinner and Sam was blown away by how considerate and sweet he was. The only things that bugged her were how nervous she was and that he wouldn't let her get drunk. He told her relaxed was fine... drunk was not. She desperately wanted to get drunk and forget about what she was doing and why she was there, but Daniel was being sensible and smart, as usual, and she was irritated by it.

Her irritation lifted considerably when he brought out dessert, a simple chocolate cake made from scratch. Sam thought she was going to cry when she took a bite, and the velvety confection nearly melted on her tongue.

After dinner, he invited her to cuddle with him on the big leather sofa, and she tucked herself under his protective arm, curling into his side, thankful for the loving contact. He spoke softly to her, mostly about the music he put on the CD player, and things he did during the day, shopping and cooking, cleaning up the apartment. At one point, he took her chin in his hand and lifted it to look into her eyes. “You know you're beautiful, don't you, Sam?” And looking into his electric blue orbs, she almost believed it.

“You are too, Daniel,” she responded, reaching up to fluff his dark brown hair.

He smiled sweetly at her. “Thank you,” he said... and he leaned down to kiss her mouth, softly, gently, lingering, his lips touching hers. And the feelings he brought out in her, of safety and sweetness and happiness were wonderful to her. She felt at peace for the first time in several months... but there was still no spark. For a moment Sam felt panic... and then she relaxed again. This was Daniel. He was, in some ways, her best friend. If anyone could help her with this, it was he.

“So,” he began, “do you want to watch a movie or something... maybe get in the mood?”

She thought for a moment. “Whatcha got?” she asked.

Daniel stood, careful not to jostle her. He went over to the DVD shelf and began to read. “First Knight, Pride and Prejudice, Casablanca, Dirty Dancing, Princess Bride, Ghost...” Sam listened stupefied... one chick flick after another.

“No porn?” she joked.

Daniel straightened from the crouch he assumed to read the titles, and gave her a discerning look. He leaned down to open a closed door on the cabinet, and began to read more titles: “Deep Throat, Ass Masters, Debbie Does Dallas...” He turned to look at her, and stopped reading when he realized she'd been joking. “No, huh?” He stood and considered. “Well, what do you like?”

“Guns of Navarone, Mad Max, Starship Troupers...” Daniel began to laugh. He didn't have any of those films.

“Our tastes are just so different,” he remarked. “Wanna try HBO?” he asked. She shook her head. “Well then... maybe it's time,” he said.

“Time?” she replied. “Time for what?”

“To go to bed,” he answered. “What do you think?” He waited earnestly for her response, seeing indecisiveness and fear in her face and demeanor. “Or...” he began. “We can call the whole thing off and I can take you home.”

Sam's face fell. Quickly, Daniel came to her, pulling her up from the sofa and into his arms. He hugged her tightly. “Or... we can go to bed,” he said softly, his breath tickling her neck. Sam pulled just slightly out of his grasp to look him in the face. She nodded, very close to tears. “But if we do this, Sam, you have to commit,” he said gently. “You have to be sure, because things won't be the same between us after this. Our relationship will change. I don't mean that we'll become a couple or anything like that. I mean that I can only do this with you, if you are sure about it... I don't want you to do something you're not ready for.” Sam nodded again, her tears now under control. “Say it, Sam,” he said.

She considered what he asked her. Softly, almost too hard to hear, she said, “Let's go to bed now, Daniel.” It was his turn to nod. He slipped an arm around her waist and began to walk with her to his bedroom.

“Oh!” he said, reaching for a medium-sized, flat box on a small table outside the bedroom. “I got this for you,” he said. “Open it.” She disentangled herself from him and eagerly untied the ribbons, lifting the lid. Inside was a short, satin, peach-colored night dress with spaghetti straps. “I thought you might wear it tonight,” he said, his eyebrows rising with expectation.

Sam lifted the lovely garment from the box and held it up to her body. “It's perfect, Daniel,” she said. “Thank you!”

“You are most welcome,” he said, taking one of her hands and kissing it. “My bathroom is there,” he said pointing. “Why don't you change into it. I have a few things to clean up, and I'll join you in bed.”

In much less time than she thought possible, Sam washed, changed and was sitting on Daniel's large bed, the unfamiliar decor very Daniel. His gift felt cool and slick against her skin, and she opted against wearing undies, which made her feel naughty. She heard him banging around in the kitchen and she called, “Can I help with something?” Somewhere in the apartment she heard his muffled but negative response. Through the door she could see lights being turned off, and she fooled with the bedside lamps to make the bedroom darker, as well.

Sam was incredibly nervous... but she was also feeling a little more confident. Having come this far, she was certain this was the right thing to do. Daniel would help. She knew he would.

It seemed to take him forever to finish whatever it was he was doing... and her anxiety rose accordingly. Nonetheless, she was determined to see this through, to try and make this thing work. If she didn't, she didn't want to contemplate the consequences. From the corner of her eye she saw movement in the doorway of the bedroom. He was here, finally. She stood and twirled for him slowly, letting him see how beautifully his gift hugged her body, how good it looked on her.

“Sweet,” he said.

Sam turned and looked at him. “You're not Daniel,” she said.

* * * * * *

She was a vision in peach satin, her long, toned legs flowing like an extension of the fabric, and Jack knew he was in serious trouble, because all he wanted to do was push her down on the bed, strip that thing off her and fuck her until she screamed. But the look she was giving him, part anger, part suspicion, part something else, told him he had his work cut out for him. Without thinking he retorted, “Ya think?”

Sam leaned down to take the duvet off Daniel's bed, pulling it to her chest to cover herself. At the sight of him, standing so unexpectedly in Daniel's doorway, she became powerfully aroused, a sensation she'd almost despaired of ever feeling again. She looked away from him, keeping her eyes averted, the heat in her belly nearly over- powering her capacity for thought. Her breathing shortened and she had to concentrate to keep from hyperventilating. This is ridiculous! she thought.

Jack felt his cock stiffen in reaction to her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and pushed down, a subtle attempt to loosen the constriction rapidly choking his groin. She was so lovely, the turn of her head, the downward glance, those tits... And suddenly he realized... the flush, the tight nipples, the flexing of her thigh muscles... she was as turned on as he was.

“What are you doing here, sir?” she asked, still not looking at him, clutching the duvet to her body.

He sauntered into the room, looking at her, willing her to look back at him, but she kept her glance down. “Daniel called me,” he said. That made her look. It was sharp, glittering in the soft bedroom light. She wanted to speak, but he continued, defusing anything she might say. “He said, you needed help.”

If it were possible, Sam blushed deeper. She cleared her throat, a sound he recognized. It was something she did when she was distressed. He didn't want to cause her any stress, but ...

“There's been a misunderstanding, sir,” she said softly, avoiding his gaze again. Sam could feel her skin, a weird over-sensitivity, which made the very air of the room painfully sensuous as it caressed her. She kept her eyes down, mostly because she didn't trust herself. The feelings his presence evoked in her were so strong, so intense, she worried for her own sanity. Here were the sensations she missed so acutely. Here was her need, her desire, her arousal. And, at that moment, because Sam was not a stupid woman, her predicament came achingly clear to her. This was exactly why she had become frigid... and why she would remain so. Only he could arouse her, and she couldn't have him.

Jack swore he could hear the cogs turning in her mind. He could see her thinking. He recognized the signs. The emotions which passed across her face told him everything he needed to know. She was shutting down. Before she turned to stone, he had to do something. “I don't think so, Carter,” he said, standing right in front of her, the heat of his body, his scent reaching her. And then his hands were on her, pulling the duvet away from her, grabbing her upper arms, his strong fingers imbedding in her flesh, hard enough to leave marks.

“I...” she began, but before she could complete the thought, let alone the sentence, his lips were on hers, his breath in her mouth, his hand on her cheek and in her hair, his arm encircling her, fingers spread across the small of her back, his hips pressed into hers. Without considering what she was doing, Sam reached for him, holding tight, pressing her body right back into him, her fingers in his silvered hair. His mouth was hot and wet on hers, his lips soft, but demanding. He stole her oxygen, making her weak, and as she gasped, his tongue slipped into her mouth, finding the sensitive skin on the inside of her lips, her slick, wet tongue, the ridges of her hard palate, every square millimeter of her mouth.

The heat pooling in her belly released and she became wet with arousal. Her head was swimming, and she felt as if she were drowning, her chest heaving, her knees buckling. As she slumped against him, holding onto his neck, he staggered back, holding her to him, supporting her. He pivoted, taking her in a controlled fall onto the bed, where she landed on top of him, her knees opened, and spread to either side of his hips. For a moment she was stunned to find herself lying there, Jack beneath her, so intimately pressed to him, but she regained her senses quickly and began to move off him. His big hands just as quickly stopped her, cupping her ass and keeping her right where she was.

She was partially raised above him, her eyes wild, looking down at him. “You feel good, Carter,” he said, smirking at her.

“But!...” She was starting to move away again, when he slipped his hand down the curve of her ass and under her, into her sex, his other arm tight around her, to keep her from bolting. As his fingers slid through her slickness, the sensations rolling over her, she wondered if she was going to pass out. Her ability to formulate language was completely gone. Any combat techniques she'd learned to break an enemy's hold were forgotten. She was awash in the feelings his long, elegant fingers elicited from her body.

He saw her wild skittishness subside, but the flush of her arousal, the feel of her pussy, so hot and wet, the spread of her body across him, her breasts weighing on his chest felt perfect to him, and it took every iota of control he had to keep from flipping her onto her back and impaling her with his cock. He craned up to nuzzle her neck, brushing his lips across the throbbing artery there, pausing, and biting her, sinking his teeth into the sweet flesh, knowing that he was marking her, and not caring.

She cried out. “Sir!”

“Carter,” he said, soothing the skin he'd abused with his lips and breath, “I've got my fingers embedded in you. Do you think you could you call me Jack?” And he pressed his middle finger into her clit to make his point. A long, low moan rose from her chest and she gasped, a tremor ripping through her body.

Sam put her palms flat on his chest and pushed up and off him with great and surprising force. She scooted up the bed away from him, until her back was against the headboard, and she could go no farther. She drew her knees to her chest, and dropped her chin, tears starting. “No, no, no, no, no...” she repeated over and over.

Jack's heart was in his throat. Did he hurt her? He didn't think he could bear it if he hurt her. While he was touching her she seemed completely into it, he thought... at least her body was. And therein lay the problem. Jack sat up, got off Daniel's bed and moved around to the side. He slipped back onto the bed, sitting and facing her. He watched her cry for a moment, her shoulders shaking. Then he put his index finger on her knee cap and slowly ran it down her shin, the skin silky and warm. When he got to her foot, he drew designs on her skin. He started over with the other knee, ending with the other foot, remarking, “Nice feet, Carter.”

She hissed, “Sam... you jackass.”

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice going a little hard.

“You heard me... Jack,” she said, now looking right at him, her eyes flashing.

“What is your problem?” he asked, anger rising.

Without hesitation she spit her response, “You are!”

He looked down at her feet, where his fingers curled around her instep. He stood abruptly, removing his hand. “Maybe I should go,” he said. He was totally confused. He thought things were going well... but clearly he was wrong. She was really upset and now she was pissed, too.

Sneeringly she replied, “Yes, why don't you?”

He pivoted away from the bed, heading toward the door. Just short of the opening, he stopped, shoved his fists in his front pockets and took a deep breath. His back was to her. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she replied, her voice strident

He turned slightly, his profile to her. As she watched him, her heart ached, almost as much as her body. He pulled at her senses, as surely as gravity. As angry as she was, she still could not believe how powerfully she was attracted to him.

“Why are you angry at me?” he asked, turning now to face her.

“You... you...” Sam turned red-faced with the effort to answer his question without telling him anything. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he began to move toward her again, back to the bed, and seeing his intention, she became even more agitated. “No! No, Jack... don't! No! Go away! Now!”

Watching her warily, he continued to approach her. This woman was fully trained in hand to hand combat. If she really didn't want him near her, she could easily stop him. Her words said one thing, her body language something else. She obviously wanted to push him away, and yet she didn't. Something was very wrong here, he thought. For the safety of his team, for this woman he loved, he needed to find out what had turned her inside out like this, and if possible to fix it.

He sat on the edge of the bed. She glared at him, her hands balled into fists. Jack scrubbed his hand over his face tiredly. He looked at his palm, and then at her. “I smell like you,” he said quietly, and was amazed to see her expression soften, and crumble. As her tears started, he gathered her into his arms, holding her gently, his hand cupping her neck. “What is it, Sam? What have I done to upset you so much?”

She began to sob. Helplessly he held her, completely baffled. “Please, Sam,” he said. “Just explain it to me. I promise I'll listen.” She paused, hiccuping slightly. “I can't promise I'll understand,” he said, his voice wry. “But I'll listen.” She giggled, burying her face in his neck. “No giggling,” he said sternly, but it only made her giggle more, which was what he intended.

She pulled away from him, leaning back on the headboard, wiping her face roughly. Her nose was red, her cheeks flushed, make-up messy, tears damp on her face, and still she was, he thought, so very beautiful. He reached for her cheek, thumbing the wetness away. “Tell me, Sam,” he said.

“I don't know where to start,” she whispered. Unexpectedly he leaned forward and kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips against hers.

“Anywhere you want,” he said, leaning back, giving her space. He took her foot in his hand again, non-threatening, but intimate contact, and waited.

Sam took a deep breath, let it out and closed her eyes, afraid that if she saw him, she'd be unable to tell him what he asked. “I guess Daniel told you about ... well, about what ... what we were going to do tonight... and why.” She opened her eyes to see him nod.

“He said you were having problems with ... you know...” Jack didn't feel like he could finish his sentence. He barreled on. “Daniel said that it was Janet's idea for him to ...” Jack gestured generally toward the bed. “...uh.. help you out.” Sam nodded again. “And he said that's why you've been so distracted lately.” She closed her eyes and set her mouth in a flat line, trying to keep from crying again. Ashamed, she nodded, affirming Jack's statements.

When he took her hands it surprised her, because her eyes were closed. His face was impossibly close to hers. “I don't get it, Sam. Daniel said you were frigid. You weren't with me.” And unexpectedly, she began to cry again.

He waited as patiently as he could, holding her hands, watching the tears course down her face. She wriggled out of his grip and began to scrub her hands over her face, hiding behind them. He stood and undressed, unbuttoning his shirt, stripping it off his shoulders, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, stepping out of them, pulling his socks and shoes off, until he was in his tee-shirt and boxers, standing by the side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she croaked.

“It looks like I'm going to be here for a while,” he said. “Might as well get comfortable.” He made a shoo-ing motion with his hands. “Scootch over.” She looked at him dumbfounded. He shooed her again, and before she realized she was doing it, she moved to accommodate him next to her on the bed. He bent down and pulled Daniel's bedclothes down, revealing blood red satin sheets under the utilitarian duvet. Jack whistled softly. “Sweet,” he said, and slipped in. When she didn't join him immediately, he reached over and pulled the duvet and top sheet out from under her, depositing her ass on the bottom red sheet. He bunched up a couple of pillows and tucked them under his head, pulling up the duvet and top sheet to keep himself warm. “Now,” he said, turning to her, “Talk.”

She blinked at him. “I can't just talk, Jack,” she said.

“Yes, you can,” he assured her. “You do it all the time!” She frowned at him, but he continued blithely. “Here, I'll start you off... you say you have a problem. When did it start?” Sam shot him a hard look, but he just waited for her, offering no further assistance, until she finally gave in, pulling the last two pillows behind her back and settling in.

“I think... I'm pretty sure it started after we got back from P3R-118. I began to have these dreams, night after night after night. They were incredibly vivid and I'd wake up and not be able to go back to sleep.”

P3R-118, where the local government solved its problems by brain washing and enslaving part of its population to service more privileged citizens, saw the members of SG1 subjected to a mind stamp, which erased their identities. Even so, Jack, as Jonah, and Sam, as Thera, retained their affection for and attraction to each other. With no memories of their respective ranks, they were free to explore their relationship, freely confessing their feelings, able to touch each other without fear of consequences. They grew close in the short time they were on the planet, but the promise of intimacy was obliterated when they recovered their memories and returned to Earth.

“What did you dream about?” he asked, already knowing the answer. When they returned from P3R-118 he had trouble sleeping too. He dreamt about her every night, waking from his fitful sleep, the sheets torn up and semen everywhere. He felt like a sixteen year old... and he hated doing the laundry, knowing he'd just have to do it again the next morning.

He dealt with his problem by going away, spending time in his cabin in Minnesota. There was a priest in the town down the road, an old friend, to whom Jack spoke whenever he had something on his mind. The minister had no idea what Jack did, nor where, but he was sympathetic and wise about the human condition. Jack always felt better after talking to Father Andrew.

Sam, on the other hand, did not speak to anyone about the experience. And like so many problems handled in isolation, her solution was far from successful. She just decided to ignore it.