Daniel and a Dream

I don't own these characters, but I like to borrow them and make them do smutty things. I derive no financial gain from my stories.

Daniel and a Dream

They'd been drinking for several hours. It was the first night of downtime in a long time and they wanted to relax. Sam knew it was silly, but spending the evening with Daniel was like a girls' night out, so she let her hair down and really opened up. Of course, the liberal amounts of alcohol helped.

Sitting in Daniel's living room, curled up on the sofa with a warm throw around her legs, a glass of wine in easy reach, Sam felt safe and loved. Daniel, sitting on the other end of the sofa, equally well lubricated, was regaling her with stories about university and some of the crazy experiences he had during his various internships. After a while he got quiet, deep in thought.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Daniel?”

“How come you ... oh, never mind.” Daniel wanted to ask her something thoroughly inappropriate, and he knew it was off-limits, but it was deviling him and he really wanted to ask her.

“What is it, Daniel?” she responded.

“No... no, I shouldn't ask,” he said, waving a hand in front of his face. His lips felt numb.

“Daniel,” Sam elongated his name, teasing him. “Go on... whatever it is, I'll answer you.”

“Oh no you won't,” he said with drunken certainty.

“I promise,” Sam replied, with equally drunk sincerity.

“You'll kick my ass,” he said, looking down into his wine glass.

“How bad could it be?” she asked him.

“Ba-ud,” he said, drawling.

Sam put her glass down. She placed one hand flat over her heart and the other, palm forward toward Daniel. “I swear I will not kick Daniel's ass, nor hurt him in any way, if he asks his question. Oh! And I swear to answer him... truthfully.” Sam dissolved in a fit of giggles.

Getting very serious, Daniel sat up and leaned toward her. “Why haven't you and Jack gotten together?” Sam blinked at him. Suddenly very uncomfortable, Daniel began to babble. “I mean, I get it... the regulations and all, but you care about him. He loves you. The sexual chemistry between you is palpable. You'd be so good together. I just don't get it.”

Sam eyed her friend. She picked up her glass and took a big swallow. When she'd replaced the wine, she turned to Daniel. “I can never do that again,” she said.

“Again? What do you mean, again? Have you and Jack....?” Daniel's hand went to his mouth.

“Once, about 25 years ago,” Sam said, her mouth pressed in a thin line.

“But... but you were...”

“I was 16.” Sam took a big breath and let it out. “I was 16,” she repeated.

For a moment Daniel lost his nerve, but the alcohol and his natural curiosity got the better of him. “What happened?” he asked.

Sam rarely opened up about personal things. She was always the consummate professional, disciplined soldier, rational scientist... but there was something in Daniel's voice and the mood of the moment that allowed her to let it all go, all the memories, the secrets. It was something that had bothered her, chafed at her for a long time, for as long as she'd been with the Stargate program, if she were honest with herself. She decided it was time to tell someone. It might as well be Daniel.

“Mom had already passed away. Dad was always busy. Mark was ... well, he was otherwise involved, far too self-absorbed to watch out for his little sister.” Sam looked at Daniel to see if he was following. His eyes were wide and he looked like he was hanging on her every word.

“A friend of mine, Janie, and I used to hang out a lot. Her dad was also Air Force. We got in a little bit of trouble from time to time, but it was always harmless... spying on the guys in the barracks, watching training exercises, that kind of thing. Mostly we were feeling our hormones kick in and we didn't really know what we were doing or why. Neither one of us was interested in a guys our own age, especially since there were these hard body soldiers all around us on base.

“One weekend Dad was away. Mark was supposed to look after me, but he was gone the minute Dad's transport was in the air. Janie and I got ourselves all dressed up, way too mature for our age, if you know what I mean.” She looked at Daniel again and he nodded, fascinated, wondering what she might have been wearing.

“We got a ride to the bar near the base where all the special forces guys hung out and we went in. We only intended to watch for a while, but they were all so... intense and their bodies were ripped and we decided to stay. There was one guy at the bar, he was kinda quiet and we started talking. I didn't tell him anything about me, at least not the real me. I said my name was Mary... my mother's name.” Sam took another deep breath. “It was Jack, Daniel.”

The archaeologist reached out and took her hand. “You don't have to tell me anything else, Sam,” he said.

“No, now I want to talk about it. I've never told anyone about this Daniel. Maybe it's time to get this off my chest.” Sam gently pulled her hand away from her friend's and picked up her wine glass again. “Both of us were drinking. It didn't take much to get me drunk. I was 16, after all. But Jack was going overseas the next day and he said he didn't want to think about anything except... well, except me. We flirted. We kissed. And when things got a little heavy, he took me outside.”

Sam cleared her throat. It had been threatening to close over with tears since she started her story, but she was intent on finishing now that she'd begun. “There was more kissing up against the wall of the bar, and things got... well, let's just say I was a virgin when I went out there, but I wasn't by the time I got home.” Daniel shook his head as if to clear it.

“You lost your virginity to Jack?”

“Uh huh.” Sam took another swig of wine. “I never knew his name and never saw him again, until I opened the SGC file on the Abydos mission and saw his personnel photo. That's why I was so nervous and combative at that first briefing... but I realized immediately as we talked that he didn't remember, or recognize me.... so....”

“Oh my God, Sam,” Daniel said totally flustered. “You've never told him?”

“No, Daniel... no. What would I say, 'Hand me another clip for my P90, sir, and, oh by the way, I lost my virginity to you.'?”

“But... but...”

“There's more, Daniel,” Sam said quietly. “He was very nice and everything afterward, even took me home, although I had him drop me off several blocks away, so he wouldn't know where I lived. It wasn't until two months later, when I miscarried, that I realized I'd gotten pregnant. It's such a cliche, isn't it?” Sam said, her voice light. “16 year old virgin has sex and gets pregnant... Anyway, now you see why I'd never tell him, and why I'd never go through that with him again?”

Daniel blinked and adjusted his glasses. “Oh Sam,” he reached for her hand again, taking it and clasping it with both of his. They sat there quietly for a moment. Then Daniel spoke again. “He's a different man now, you know.” She nodded.

“That's why I can look him in the face, and why I can call him my friend,” she said.

“But you love him, Sam, and he loves you,” Daniel insisted.

“Can't do it, Daniel,” Sam said, with finality. She smiled at her friend. “Got any crackers?” The archaeologist smiled back, recognizing the end of a conversation when he heard one. He let it drop, and with it the somber mood.

It took a week before Daniel decided he couldn't let it go. He decided to host a guys' night at his place and figure out a way to excavate Jack's memory of Sam from his subconscious. Teal'c and Jack came for dinner, which Daniel prepared, a Peruvian stew he learned to make during one of his summers abroad. There was plenty to drink, a necessity to go along with the spicy main dish. Jack finished his fourth Guinness, when Daniel brought up the question, which he hoped would start the memory ball rolling.

“So, guys, when did you lose your virginity and how?”

“What is virginity, Daniel Jackson, and why does one lose it?” Daniel looked at Jack and Jack looked back and both of them started to laugh. Teal'c watched his two friends and patiently waited for their merriment at his expense to end.

“Virginity, T, it's ... well, it's your state of being before ...” Jack shrugged and looked at the archaeologist. “Daniel?”

“Virginity is what humans call the time in one's life when one has not had sex. It's often associated with purity or innocence. For girls the loss of one's virginity is the breaking of physical, as well as social and emotional barriers. For boys it's more of a psychological and cultural process. When a boy loses his virginity, he feels he is a man. It's a rite of passage.”

“You mean the rite of krik'tah, Daniel Jackson,” Teal'c suggested.

“Krik'tah?”

“Yes, among the people of Chulak, boys are initiated into the ranks of men by Jaffa warrior women, trained to instruct young men in the arts of love. By no means was this a process of losing something. On the contrary, I gained a great deal. I was most fortunate to be initiated by the great Rhu'mak, the oldest in the clan of warrior women.”

“Oldest?” Jack asked. “Just how old are we talking here, T?”

“Rhu'mak was 128 of your years old when she initiated me into the Krik'tah.”

“Great screamin' buckets,” Jack said under his breath.

“She was truly a fine and noble woman,” Teal'c intoned, a far away look coming to his eye. “The techniques of pleasure she taught me have been put to great use over many, many years. I left her tent most satisfied.” Jack snorted. Teal'c turned toward him. “Are not the warriors of the Tauri similarly initiated?”

“Uh, no, Teal'c,” Jack replied, feeling more than a little snarky.

“There's no organized ritual for losing one's virginity, Teal'c,” Daniel said. “It's more like every man for himself.”

“Then how did you ... lose... your virginity, Daniel Jackson?”

“I was on a dig in Central America and I met a local woman. She thought my eyes were exotic, because they were blue,” Daniel hastened to add by way of explanation.

“How old were you?” Jack asked.

“Uh... 20,” Daniel responded, blushing profusely.

“20!?!” Jack started laughing. Teal'c smiled benignly, too much of a gentleman to succumb to his own amusement.

“Is this not a normal age for young men of Earth?” Teal'c asked.

“Well, I don't know about Mr. Smartypants McCollegeboy, here,” Jack said, pointing back a Daniel with his thumb, “but I was 15.” Jack looked challengingly at Teal'c. “How old were you?”

“12.”

“Holy shit!” Even Jack was impressed with that.

“So what was it like, Jack?” Daniel asked.

“There's nothing really to tell. Our neighbors had a daughter in college. I was tall for my age. She came home during one of the holidays and we... hit it off.” Jack smiled ruefully at the memory. “I didn't know what I was doing and she ... well, she was very patient. I'll always be grateful, though.”

All three men sat pensively for a moment. Then Daniel sprang his trap. “Have you ever taken a girl's virginity?”

“Many times, while I was in the service of Apophis,” Teal'c rumbled. “It is something I deeply regret.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah, once or twice.”

“Any regrets?”

Daniel held his breath. He saw Jack nod slightly to himself. “There was one girl. She was young, maybe 20. I was in special forces training. It was right before I was shipped out to... well, to wherever it was we were going that time. She was tall, blond, beautiful. Sweet kid. We were at a bar near the base. She'd been hanging all over me and I needed some air, so I took her outside. And one thing led to another... and by the time I realized she was a virgin it was too late, and I was too much of an asshole to stop.” Jack was looking off into the distance, remembering. Good, thought Daniel.

“I helped clean her up afterward. She bled a little. I took her home. I shipped out and that was it.”

“You regretted it?” Daniel pressed.

“Yeah,” Jack said softly. “I've always wondered what happened to her... if she was okay. She really was a sweet kid.” Jack sighed. “How about you, spacemonkey? Had any virgins?”

Daniel blushed. “Uh... Sha're.” Daniel gave himself a shake. “Let's not go there, okay, guys?” Jack and Teal'c nodded. “So, hockey or basketball?”

That night, Jack dreamed. The seed planted by Daniel's questions came to fruition. In the hazy images of his sleeping imagination Jack relived the experience, feeling the girl's soft breath in his face, the hard beating of her heart as he caressed her breasts, the intensity of her blue eyes as he lifted her skirt, ripping her panties off, as he pushed her against the stuccoed wall. He could smell her fresh scent, felt the need in her, and when he touched her pussy, how she quivered. He remembered her mouth, the taste of her youth, and the shocked gasp, when he entered her, pushing into her wetness. It was only then, when he encountered the barrier that he realized she was a virgin. He should have stopped. In his dream Jack remembered the moment when he decided he didn't care.

“Hold on, honey,” he said tersely in her ear. And as her fingers dug into his biceps, he shoved into her hard, breaking her hymen and slamming himself deeply into her. He heard her cry out, but he was too far gone. She was so tight, and wet and sweet. He had her thigh up and open, and he reached between them to stroke through her folds. Her clit was swollen with arousal and he worked it, even as he pistoned himself into her. He could feel her tightening impossibly around him, hear her breathing change. He took her mouth, his tongue echoing the movements of his cock inside her. And when she came, he felt her spasms for only a second or two before he came too, pumping his seed into her, hips jerking, heart beating a mile a minute.

He recalled leaning on her, trying to pull himself together. She was gasping and whimpering as the last convulsions of her orgasm milked him, but it wasn't until he pulled out of her that he saw the blood. “Aw shit, honey, did I hurt you?” She looked at him with big, blue eyes. His dream self saw something in them. She shook her head.

“No,” she said softly. And in his dream the girl became Carter. It was just for an instant, but looking down at her, her face was Carter's. He woke up.

Jack was in a full body sweat. Between the sex of the dream and the weird ending, he was also as hard as a rock. He sat up, images from the dream washing over him. He moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs down, feet on the floor. Well, I might as well take care of this, he thought. He gripped his cock none too gently and swiped his thumb across the head. Reaching for the hand cream he kept by the side of the bed, he lubed his fist and began to stroke. It didn't take long, pictures from the dream and his memories spurred him toward completion. He was already on edge from the dream, but as he came, his semen spraying across the hardwood floor, the image of Carter's face returned, making his orgasm that much stronger.

“Shit!”

The next morning, Jack came into the SGC with circles under his eyes. He thought he'd be a little hung over, but he didn't expect he'd be overtired. He hadn't slept well, even after jerking off. The memories and their effects on him were disturbing, so much so he wasn't able to go back to sleep. When he got on base he went directly to his office and holed up, coming out only for coffee. It was on one of these forays for caffeine that he ran into Sam.

“How are you, sir?” she asked, coming up behind him as he poured coffee into his cup.

“For crying out loud, Carter!” he said, nearly shouting. At the sound of her voice he'd poured hot coffee over his hand. Now he was burnt, tired and irritable, and he had coffee all over his pants.

Sam looked at him, standing there shaking his hand, trying to cool it off, the coffee stain spreading across his thigh. His physical effect on her was always the same, regardless of his mood. There was something about him... pheromones, chemistry, whatever... he always made her wet. She wasn't proud of it. It just was. “Come on, sir, let's get you to the infirmary and have that hand looked at.” He looked at her evilly. She grabbed some ice and a cloth napkin from the service table and reached for his hand, looking at it, trying to assess his injury. Reluctantly he let her tend to him, placing the make shift ice pack on his painful burn. “Come on,” she said again.

He pulled his hand from her and took the proffered compress, following her from the commissary. In the infirmary the doc on duty daubed the burn with vitamin E and wrapped it in gauze. “You should be good as new, sir,” he said. “Keep it dry and put this vitamin E cream on it twice a day.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack left the infirmary, waving his dismissal. Sam shrugged her shoulders in apology to the doctor and left. She trotted after her CO.

“Sir!”

Jack stopped in his tracks, sighed deeply, and turned to face her. “What is it, Carter.”

Sam stood in front of him and began to talk. He was only half listening to her. She was asking him something about an artifact that they brought back from their last mission. As he watched her face, the images from his dream seeped into his conscious mind and he saw the face of the young girl clearly, probably for the first time in 25 years. No wonder his dream self saw Carter's face instead of the girl's... they looked a lot alike!

Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Sam was still talking, but he most definitely wasn't listening. He'd always trusted his gut and his gut was screaming at him now. He shifted from one foot to the other, looking down at his boots. “I can't think about this now, Carter.” He pivoted away from her and walked down the corridor, leaving her wondering what the hell just happened.

Moving purposefully to his office, Jack went in and shut the door. He sat at his desk and thought. His heart was hammering. Was it possible? It wasn't, was it? He turned on his computer and pulled up Sam's personnel file. The earliest dates were her graduation from college. She had gone to school nowhere near the base where he met the young girl. He gulped in a breath of much needed air, trying to calm himself. His gut still wasn't satisfied. He called up General Jacob Carter's service record. Looking for the year when he met the girl, he read Jacob's file. Crap! The Carters lived on the same base, at the same time he was there. He recalled Sam's file and compared dates. If Sam had been the girl she would have been... 16!

Jack sat back in his chair. He was breathing hard now. No. Not possible. His mind refused to consider it... but his gut considered it... and his gut believed it. The sound of his heart beat was loud in his ears. What the fuck? Was Sam Carter the girl... the virgin ... he'd so callously screwed and left?

Jack sank into a dark funk. When Daniel knocked on his door to see if he wanted to get lunch, Jack told his friend to go without him. Daniel was nearly out the door again, before he stopped and looked back. “Go away, Daniel,” Jack said peevishly. “I'm not good company right now.” Instead of leaving, though, Daniel came into the office, closed the door and sat down. “What part of get lost don't you understand, Daniel?” Jack asked scathingly.

Daniel sat across from his friend and looked at him, his fingers tented in front of his lips. “You remembered, didn't you?” he asked.

Jack looked blankly at the archaeologist. He let his mind rove and forage for a minute, the conversation with Daniel and Teal'c rising up full force. Jack stood up. “You knew!” he said, snarling.

Daniel sat calmly. He knew Jack was pushed to the breaking point, and he knew he had to be careful. The slightest sign of fear and his friend was capable of hurting him. “I just found out, Jack,” he said softly, putting his hands up, palms forward, a pacifying gesture.

It worked. Jack sat down. His eyes were still murderous, but Daniel could handle that. He waited. He knew that his friend would work out the essential issue. He just had to wait. Jack frowned. He swivelled his head toward Daniel. “Why didn't she tell me?” Ah, there it is, Daniel thought.

“There's more, Jack” Daniel responded, unconsciously echoing Sam's own words. Daniel stood. He watched his friend's face as he tried to make sense of what he was thinking. Daniel opened the office door and left, closing it behind him. He knew Jack would be mad at him, but he really didn't think it was his story to tell. Quickly, and quietly, Daniel moved away from Jack's office, heading out of the mountain. Behind him in the maze of hallways, he heard Jack roaring his name. Daniel zipped his ID card through the reader at the elevator, stepped in quickly and left.

Jack stomped through the corridors of the SGC looking for Daniel. After 40 minutes without luck, he began making phone calls. After an hour or so, he thought to call the check in station on the surface. “Dr. Jackson left some time ago, sir.” Jack slammed the phone down on the unsuspecting SF, and uttered a series of curses that would make a prisoner doing hard time blush.

He dialed Daniel's cell. “If this is Jack O'Neill,” Daniel's recorded voice began, “I am currently out of touch. You may leave me a message, but don't expect me to call you back.” Jack disconnected, rage coursing through him. Jack could feel his heart pounding. If he didn't get himself under control he was liable to do something he'd regret. He put his head in his hands. “There's more,” Daniel said. What did he mean?

Jack went over everything he knew, everything he'd found out. Sam was the girl... Sam was the girl. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. Why hadn't she told him? How could she look him in the face? Didn't she remember? Of course she remembered, he berated himself. It was her first time. She was a virgin and he'd taken her against the wall of a bar. A deep shiver of disgust and self-loathing passed through him. I never thought about it again, until Daniel brought it up. God, she must hate me.

Jack's throat closed over. He thought about Carter, how much he loved her, how all he wanted was to protect her... and yet, he'd hurt her, deeply, long ago. Well, that's karma for ya, he thought. Why hadn't she told him? It just kept nagging at him.


Jack sat back in his chair. He put his fingertips together over his belly. I'm missing something, he thought. Slowly, he went over the facts one more time. God, she'd been hot... she was 16! And he hated himself all over again. And it was her first time... her first time. He hadn't even used a condom. He just fucked her and that was it. No protection.

It hit him like an electrical charge. He sat up, thinking. Then he stood and left his office, walking at a fast clip. By the time he reached the infirmary, he was running. He went directly to the CMO's office. There was no one around. Jack went to the personnel files and pulled out the drawer marked “C-E”. Flipping through the folders, he found Sam's. He pulled it and opened it, running his fingers down the charts and notations, looking for the information he knew was in there. It took no more than a minute. He slapped the file closed. A nurse walked by and saw him. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“Yeah, re-file this, wouldja?” He handed her Carter's file and walked past her. The nurse looked from the file to her superior officer. She was about to call after him, to tell him that medical files were confidential and he shouldn't have been reading someone else's. She looked at the name on the folder. Uh oh, she thought.

Jack left the mountain. He got in his truck, uncertain where he was going, only that he was leaving. He couldn't stay at the SGC a second longer. He needed to move, to get some air, clear his head. Despite the chill in the autumn air, he rolled his windows down and let the coolness permeate him. He had no way of knowing for sure, of course. All it said was “one pregnancy, terminated by miscarriage”. There were no other notations. But he knew. He knew as surely as he knew the route to his cabin in Minnesota. He knew without a doubt that he'd impregnated Sam when she was 16.

What he couldn't wrap his mind around was why she tolerated him. Why they were friends. They were friends! Hell, sometimes he wondered if they could have been more than friends. He knew he loved her. Sometimes he imagined she had feelings for him too, that he saw a certain look in her eye, a softness, a fire, when she looked at him. Now it was obvious. He was deluding himself.

Jack stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of scotch. He drove up to the little park he liked, the place where he hiked occasionally when he returned from off-world and he needed to remind himself why protecting this planet was so important. He parked the truck and considered taking a walk, but the bottle of scotch was talking to him. He opened it and began drinking. He didn't bother with a cup. He didn't sip. He just slugged it down. His only purpose was to get drunk, to stop his brain from thinking, to slow the freight train of self-hatred for just a little while.

He wasn't sure when he decided to leave the park. He knew he shouldn't have been driving. He was good and drunk, and if a cop saw him, he'd be in big trouble. He drove carefully, and he was lucky, and he pulled up in front of Carter's house, shut the truck off, and was in front of her door, knocking, before he realized what he was doing.

She opened the door to find him standing there, reeking of scotch, his fist raised, ready to knock some more. “Sir?” He seemed surprised to see her. His mouth opened and closed. He lowered his fist and looked at her. He was wavering on his feet. She looked around the edge of his shoulder for Daniel or Teal'c wondering how he'd gotten there. Seeing his truck and his state of extreme inebriation, she reached out and grabbed his forearm, pulling him inside quickly.

“Carter,” he said.

“You're drunk, sir,” she responded.

“Ya think?” he said, some of his anger returning. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Sam leaned down, picked it up and hung it on a peg in her front hall.

“I think you need some coffee, sir,” she said, putting her hand under his elbow to steer him into the kitchen. At first he went easily, but after only a few steps, he wrenched his elbow out of her grasp. He turned toward her and grabbed her upper arms, turning her toward him. She was in bare feet. He was in boots... and he was now in a towering rage. He stood over her, his liquory breath harsh in her face.

“You...” he snarled. “You ...” He looked down at her face, her lovely, sweet face, and his anger drained away. He released her and turned away. “I...” He couldn't stand to see her. He couldn't stand for her to see him. “I should go,” he said.

Sam reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “Sir? What's wrong? Are you okay?”

“I should go,” he reiterated. He started back toward the door lurching slightly, his balance out of whack from the booze.

Sam moved easily around him and stood in his way, blocking the front door. “I don't think so, sir.” He looked at her in astonishment. She crossed her arms in front of her and stared at him. “You're drunk. You shouldn't drive.” He hung his head. She continued. “Why don't you let me make you some coffee. You'll feel better,” she concluded. Jack mumbled. “What was that, sir?”

He looked up at her. “No, I won't, Carter. I won't feel better.” He contemplated his actions. “Stand aside, Carter. I'm leaving.”

“No. You're not... sir.”

Without considering what he was doing, he was good at that, he lunged forward, almost falling. She easily caught him and, using her body weight, pivoted him into the wall to hold him upright and steady. She stood in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, pressing his back into the wall. Looking up into his face she said, “You can't even walk. What makes you think you should drive?”

Quickly, much more quickly than he should have been able, he had her pinned on the opposite wall in front of her door. He had his entire body pressed against hers, and she could feel every inch of him, every inch, hot and hard. He had never used his superior strength, weight and speed against her. It was astonishing. It was more than a little scary. And it was, in a small strange way, incredibly arousing. He was breathing hard and she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She just hoped he couldn't feel hers, because it was pounding just as hard. Sam summoned her courage. In a quiet, firm voice she said, “Get off me... sir.”

“Carter.” He breathed in her face, the smell of scotch strong, but underneath, she could still smell the ineffable scent of him. She could feel herself getting wet, and for a brief moment she thought she might rub herself on the thigh he'd pressed between hers. She took a breath, and got herself under control. Moving deliberately she maneuvered her arms up and pressed her palms against his chest. Flexing her elbows, she tried to push him away, but he just pushed back, looking down at her, something wild racing through his eyes.

Looking down at her, her smell rising all around him, the feel of her body against his, he couldn't help himself. His hips thrust into her, his rampant cock, contained by his pants, butting against her belly . She closed her eyes and, for a moment, he wondered if she was going to scream or cry, but she moaned, instead. That did it. He stepped away, now pressing his back into the wall. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her face a mask of control, she asked him, “What did you come here for?”

He looked at her. “I... don't know, Carter.” She pushed herself off the wall and walked away from him, leaving him standing in the hall. He followed her with his eyes, unable to move. She turned and regarded him, immobile. Turning away, she walked down the hall and into her bedroom. She closed the door with an audible click.

Something about that sound galvanized him. It was like a switch in his head. His anger returned full blown. He stormed down the hall after her, kicking down her door and coming into her room. She was sitting on the bed, her bare back to him, pulling on her pajama pants. As he burst in, she grabbed her tank top and held it to her, covering her breasts. “Get out,” she said, her tone dark, clipped, angry.

Jack strolled around to her side of the bed and faced her. Leaning down suddenly he whipped the shirt out of her hands, leaving her naked from the waist up. She moved to cover herself. He reached out and pulled her hands away, lifting her from the bed to a standing position in front of him. He looked down at her breasts. “They've changed,” he said almost conversationally. “You've developed since you were 16.”

Sam's eyes flew up to his, her brain working furiously, processing his words. She strained against his restraining hands, until, without warning, she slumped, letting herself go limp. He reached for her, pulling her to him, his arms encircling her. Her head landed on his shoulder, her face in his neck, and in a heartbeat, she was crying, great, heaving sobs, which wracked her body and her soul.

The fight went out of him. The self-hatred evaporated. Everything he was concentrated on holding this woman, keeping her safe, telling her without words she was loved. She leaned on him fully, unable to hold herself upright. Eventually he capitulated to gravity, letting himself, holding her, slip onto the bed. He moved carefully, dragging her with him, until he was sitting up against the headboard. He grabbed the first item of clothing he touched, an old button front shirt, which was balled up and sitting by the pillows. He draped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his arms, her body curled against him, his legs on either side of her.

She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how she got there. She only knew two things. She hurt so much, it was almost too painful to breathe. And she knew that Jack was here with her, holding her, keeping her safe. She could get through it as long as he was here, she thought. The pain would go away and she'd be here, with him, and she'd be safe.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed there together. He stopped thinking and just held her, kissing the top of her head from time to time, thumbing away the tears, which continued to course down her cheeks. Slowly, in increments too minute to measure, Sam came back to herself, reason, logic, discipline reasserting their hold on her. Her tears stopped. Her snuffling stopped. She cleared her throat. She sat up, breaking his hold on her, slipping her arms into the old shirt, buttoning it.

“How did you find out?” she asked softly.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked just as quietly.

“I couldn't,” she said, turning away. He reached for her, taking her chin in his hand and turning her back to face him.

“Tell me,” he said.

“No,” she said, almost inaudibly.

“Please,” he said. He looked at her, her bottom lip starting to quiver again. How could he have missed it, he wondered. Her face was so familiar to him. Without a second to consider, he leaned forward and kissed her, holding her chin, so she didn't pull away. To his surprise, she responded, following him back, when he released her lips. She curled up against his chest. His arms came around her. “Please,” he said again.

“I was a kid,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“I know... now,” he said, his voice a rumble in her ear.

“I was out for some fun, off my leash,” she continued. “Dad was away. Mark was out. My friend and I decided to check out that bar. You were there.” Her voice faltered.

“You said your name was Mary,” he said, tightening his arms around her.

“You were there,” she repeated, “and you were... magnificent.” He snorted. She pulled up to look him in the face. “I mean it, Jack,” she said. The sound of his name on her lips thrilled him, almost as much as the fierce look in her eye. She settled back down on his chest. “There you were, standing by yourself, looking at me like I was a meal and you were hungry. You were so hot, just seeing you made me wet.” He snorted again. “Still do,” she said quietly.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” she repeated.

“Still do... what?” he asked.

“You still do... make we wet... whenever I see you,” she said haltingly. Both of them were silent for a while. Finally he tightened his arms around her again.

“Continue,” he said.

She sat up again, breaking his hold. “What do you want from me, Jack?” She was getting angry now.

He reached for her, his hands encircling her upper arms. “The truth, Sam. I want to know all of it... everything... everything.” She let him pull her back. She sighed.

“Well, you know what happened.” He shrugged.

“Humor me,” he said.

“We drank. We kissed. You took me outside and ...” Sam couldn't continue.

After a moment Jack began to speak. “I pushed you up against the wall and I put my hands on your body, and you were so hot, so beautiful, I thought I might embarrass myself and come right there.” Sam giggled. He smiled, but it was short lived. He continued. “I pulled up your skirt. Were you wearing panties?” She nodded in his arms. “Yeah, yeah. I ripped them off you, didn't I?” Again she nodded. “And I ...” He was quiet.

“You reached down and pulled my leg up,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “It was the most erotic thing I'd ever experienced.” She slipped her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. “And then you...” She took a deep breath, but before she continue he spoke.

“Why did you let me, Sam? All you had to do was say no. I would have stopped. I didn't know you were a virgin.” He sounded so anguished, she knew she had to make him understand.

“Stop?” She sat up and took his shirt collar in her hands, looking him right in the face. “I didn't want to stop, Jack. I wanted you like I'd never wanted anything, or anyone ever before... or since.”

“What?” He was confused.

“You heard me. I wanted you and I didn't want you to stop.” Sam uncurled her fingers from his shirt.

“But you said...”

Sam settled back in his arms. “Yeah.” She nodded to herself. “I still want you, Jack.”

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out softly, slowly, controlling his exhale, letting everything he heard, everything he felt wash over him. She still wanted him. She had feelings for him. For the first time since his dream he felt a shining moment of hope... but then Daniel's words, and his certainty about the consequences of his actions so long ago pricked at his conscience. “There's more to it, isn't there?” he asked quietly.

He felt her nod again. “I didn't know right away. In fact I didn't know until I felt sick.” Her voice closed over with tears again. “I was so young, Jack, and my mother was gone and I didn't have anyone to tell... so I just dealt with it.”

“You were pregnant.” He didn't ask. He didn't have to.

Sam cried, gripping his shirt, her heart breaking all over again with the pain of a young girl's first love, the loss of her innocence and then of the life she didn't know she had inside her, the death of her mother, the distance of her father... everything in her life leading to this moment, with his arms around her, holding her.

Finally she calmed. She knew she had to finish the story, to explain to him how they got to this point. She stroked the front of his shirt, wet with her tears. “I miscarried. I'm not sure why. Maybe because I was so young, or because the baby was defective, or ... I don't know, Jack... maybe I did something to cause it.” Sam could feel the tears coming up again and mercilessly squashed them down. “Whatever... I lost the baby.” She shuddered. “I never told anyone, not my friend, not my father or brother. I only told the Air Force, because it showed up on the physical exam.” He nodded, not saying anything.

Sam sat up and looked at him, staring into his brown eyes. “You knew,” she said. She didn't need to ask him, it was clear on his face. “That's why you're here, isn't it?” She could feel anger beginning to stir in her belly. “You just wanted confirmation, right?” She moved to get away from him, up and off the bed, but his speed and strength stopped her, and she found herself flat on the bed, underneath him.

“Get off me, Jack,” she said, trying to push him away. He took her wrists and held them over her head, using his body weight to contain her, stretched out over her and pressing her into the mattress.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, holding her down.

The anger rising within her snapped, and before she could stop herself, her eyes blazing, she said, “Why didn't you recognize me?”

He looked down into her face and, before he knew that he was going to, he kissed her. He kissed her long and hard, shaping his lips to hers, flicking them with his tongue, moving over her until she opened to him. And when his tongue was inside the hot cavern of her mouth, he tasted her deeply, needing her. Finally he released her lips. “Why didn't I recognize you?” he asked rhetorically. “I'm an asshole, that's why.” He rolled off her and lay next to her, looking at the ceiling.

He turned to face her, propping his head on his hand. “I'm an asshole, Sam, and I always have been an asshole.” He sighed. “I should have stopped that night, as soon as I realized you were a virgin. I should have been a better man.” He rolled back onto the mattress. “But I wasn't... I'm not.”

They lay there on the bed side by side, the events of the evening washing over them. At some point they both fell asleep, only to wake up, their limbs entwined, their bodies pressed together. Jack had been dreaming about her, touching her, kissing her. Sam was dreaming too, his hands on her body, touching her breasts, sucking her nipples. It might have been Sam's whimper that woke them, but when they realized where they were, and with whom, they both started awake, pulling away from each other.

It was still dark, several more hours before they would both have to get up to go to work. Jack could feel a headache starting, the amount of hard liquor he consumed catching up with him. He turned his head to look at her, surprised to find her eyes already on him. “Do you think I could take a shower, clean up a little, before I leave?” he asked.

“You want to leave?” she asked, her voice steady.

“Not really,” he responded honestly. “I just thought you might want me to... you know, because of ...” His voice trailed away. In a sudden and unexpected move, he reached for her and pulled her to him. “I'm sorry, Sam,” he said his voice low. “I didn't mean to hurt you... not then... not now. That's the last thing I want to do.”

She snaked her hand up behind him and scraped her nails through the short silvered hair above his neck. “What do you want to do?” she asked.

With the last of his reserve breaking, the end of his control reached, his need for her readily apparent, and poking her in the belly, he craned his neck down and kissed her. “I want... I want to stay here with you,” he said.

“Then stay,” she said, pulling his head down to press her lips against his.

Jack felt warm... the kind of warmth he experienced when he came into the cabin, fire crackling, after a hike in the snow, a welcoming warmth, of sun beaming on his face, Sam's mouth on his. He looked at her face, her beautiful, shining face under him, and he wanted... he wanted... he wanted her. He wanted to touch every part of her, to kiss her skin, to taste her, to smell her. His need for her, to be inside her, to have her skin pressed to his, to envelop himself in her smell, was nearly overwhelming. “I love you, Sam,” he said gruffly, stroking the hair off her forehead with his palm.

She opened her mouth to reply, but he covered it with his own. “Don't say anything,” he said. He put his finger across her lips, when she tried to speak again. “No,” he said, a small smile on his lips. “I just need you to know that. I love you and I have for some time now... maybe for a lot longer than I realized.” He removed his finger, kissing her again.

He moved down her neck, pressing his lips to her skin, tasting her, dragging his teeth to nip her. She arched under him, turning her head to give him better access. He could hear her breathing quickening. Under his lips her blood rushed, pulsing faster. He unbuttoned the top of the old cotton shirt, peeling the placket apart to reveal her skin, moving down to kiss the pale, peachy flesh. “Jack,” she said hoarsely.

He wasted no time unbuttoning the rest of her shirt, kissing down the center of her chest to her navel. She reached for his hair, fisting it, pulling him back up to her mouth. He came willingly, pressing his lips to hers. In a move worthy of her hand to hand training, she flipped him, straddling his waist, looming over him. She bent down to kiss him, her shirt opening, his eyes shifting to her breasts.

He sat up under her, pressing his chest into hers, and became frustrated by his tee shirt. Impatiently, he pulled it out of his pants, up and over his head. Taking her in his arms again he pulled her close, skin to skin, their hearts beating together. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, his hands sliding down her neck, her shoulders, slipping under her shirt and down her arms, until she was bare as he on top.


He lay back, his head resting on his hands gazing up at her. For a moment she felt shy, watching him looking at her breasts, licking his lips. There's that look, she thought. He doesn't even have to put a hand on me and I feel as if he's touching all the places on my body that make me scream.

“Sam,” he said, reaching up to caress her. His hands splayed across each globe, holding, weighing, squeezing. She leaned into his touch. Slipping his hands under her breasts, he spanned her rib cage and pulled her toward him, his chin rising to take each nipple in his mouth. His lips and teeth, his tongue combined to tease and torture her sensitive flesh, making both peaks tighten with need. She flattened her palms on the strong plane of his chest, holding herself steady as he feasted.

Sam rocked her hips unconsciously trying to meet her need, sliding her hot center over his length, the friction good, but not enough. He pulled away from her breasts to look at them, nipples dusky and wet from his mouth, and something broke in her. She struggled out of his grip, moving back on his body to straddle his thighs. His chinos were tented with arousal. She unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his pants and unzipped them, his cock, behind the veil of his boxers, slipping immediately through the opening, as if coming up for air. She pulled the elasticized cotton waistband away from his belly, her fingernails skimming his skin and making it twitch, and she lowered his boxers just enough to reveal him. The purple head strained toward her, and she leaned over to kiss it, hearing him gasp. She scooted down his legs, pulling everything off him. She stripped off her own pants. Then she crawled back up, spreading his legs, until she knelt in the reverse V of his groin, looking down at his hardened length, gripped in her fist.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows to watch her. Sam lowered her mouth on him, licking, flicking her tongue into his slit. And as his eyes threatened to roll back in his head, she took him between her lips, engulfing him in the heat of her mouth. He forced himself to watch, the top of her blond head obscuring his vision, until she pulled up, sucking hard, and revealed his shaft, wet with her saliva, veins pulsating wildly. He could feel his balls crawling upward and he knew this would be over way too fast if he let her continue, no matter how unbelievable it felt to have her hands and mouth on him.

“Stop!” he said, startling her. Her eyes flicked up to his face, looking at him from under her lashes, tongue swiping across the tip of his cock. He wished he could freeze that image forever. She was so hot and she had no idea. He reached for her and pulled her away from his rigid length, reasserting control over the situation, taking command of her and most importantly himself. “Can't let you do that, Sam,” he said. “Not the first time.” He saw her expression change suddenly, and he realized what he'd said. “Not this time,” he amended, pulling her up his body to straddle his thighs again.

He knew she needed to feel some sense of dominance, to have the certainty that she had control this time, because their first coupling, so long ago, was wholly in his power. He was the aggressor. He had the experience. And she was so young. Jack's heart beat irregularly for a moment. She was so young. The fact that he didn't know, that she had been willing really wasn't the point, he thought. In essence he'd raped her. That stopped him cold.

He grabbed her wrists and held them tightly to his chest. “Sam,” he hissed. She looked at his face and saw something she never thought she'd ever see... tears. In all their time together, even after they thought Daniel had died, even when he'd talked about the death of his son, never had she seen tears in his eyes. From her position over him, looking down into his face, his dear, handsome face, she gasped. She saw real, present pain there.

“What is it, Jack?” Her voice was soft, wondering, scared.

“What I did to you, Sam... it was...” He couldn't finish speaking. He turned his head to the side, trying to hide his grief and shame from her.

“It was ... what?” she asked.

“It was ... heinous... criminal.” His voice broke, and she could see the big vein in his forehead standing out, a sure sign he was trying to keep control. His eyes were closed, but she could see a tiny pearl of liquid seep from under his lid, pooling in the corner by the bridge of his nose.

Sam extricated her wrists from his grip and slid off his body, coming to rest by his side. She put her hand on his stubbled cheek and felt him shake his head slightly, more a jerk of negation than anything. “Jack,” she said softly, wanting him to look at her. His eyes remained firmly closed. “Jack,” she said again, keeping her voice gentle. His breath hitched. She turned her body toward him, putting an arm across his shoulder and she drew him toward her. She tucked her hand behind his neck, pulled his face into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, and she stroked the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair.

“There's no changing the past,” she said, her voice little more than the sound of her breath in his ear. “All we have is now, and our hope for what our future will be.” Her fingers curled tightly in his hair, gripping and pulling him away from the shelter of her shoulder. “Look at me, Jack,” she said, a command brooking no refusal. His eyes flicked open, focusing on hers. “I love you. I have for a long time... much longer than I realized.” She echoed his own words, and she smiled gently, stroking his cheek.

“Sam, I'm sorry...” he began, pain still radiating from him.

“No, Jack,” she said, “no talking. I just needed you to know that.” As she repeated what he'd said to her, she watched his eyes change, a small smile curling his lips. She kissed him, pressing her lips to his, immediately deepening the contact, her tongue entering his mouth, tasting him. She threw her long leg over his hip, opening herself to him, and his cock, which had lost some of its presence, renewed its interest in full force. She rubbed herself on him, her fluids wetting his shaft, and they both groaned, needing so much more.

Her leg hooked across him, her arm over his shoulder, she held on tight and moved onto her back bringing him with her. He found himself stretched over her, cradled between her thighs, pressing her breasts under him. “Now, Jack,” she said.

Looking down at her, moving onto his elbows, he reached down slowly for her other leg, sliding his hand down her thigh to her knee. He pulled her leg up, opening her further, his hand stroking the underside. She breathed out a long, slow exclamation of arousal, her fingers clenching his upper arms. He reached between them, grasping his length, guiding himself to her entrance. His eyes never left her face. “Sam,” he said, sliding the tip in, feeling himself enveloped in her sweet wetness. He pressed into her, the memory of their first time weighing on his heart, but she looked at him with such longing, the flush of arousal across her cheeks, he dismissed the pain.

Her heat, the tightness as he pushed into her shut everything off in his brain, except what he felt at that very moment. Blood rushed from every extremity to fill his cock, and he could feel himself surge and lengthen, trying to reach so deeply into her that he might never return.

He pulled back and pushed in again, moving even more profoundly into her most intimate caress. She could feel him tight in her belly, and she shivered with pleasure, a tremor passing through her. The constriction of her inner muscles closed down on him and he had to take several deep breaths to maintain his control, watching as she licked her lips. He leaned down to kiss her, tongues sliding together, lips pressing, until they were both breathless. Only then did he begin to move, the pressure building between them and within them. She angled her hips up. He thrust heavily into her, using his weight for leverage.

He rolled slightly, moving his hand between them, stroking through her wet curls to find her clit. He rubbed it, pressing it, pinching it gently until her gasps and cries told him she was ready. He moved back onto both elbows again and changed his angle of penetration, now hitting her clit with each thrust. “Harder,” she said. “Please, Jack.” Her voice was full of need, and he knew it was time.

He pounded into her. Every explosion of forward movement propelled him inside her, his butt muscles and abs giving his strokes strength and force. She could feel her pleasure building, a constant, pressing urge, a powerful gathering of energy collecting within her, ready to be flung outward in waves. “Sam,” he said, for what felt like the millionth time... but her name was his mantra. It grounded him. It lifted him. It centered him inside her, gave him permission to be and become. A hard bolt of energy amassed in his lower spine. He knew he was close. He slammed into her, and she welcomed him, her hands sliding down his body to pull him in tighter.

He closed his lips over the pulse point in her neck, flicking his tongue across it over and over. A deep groan, a growl rose in his throat as he felt his teeth graze her skin. “Jack!” she cried, and she jammed her hips up into his, spasming wildly, her climax ripping through her. Before he had a chance, she took him with her. The charge in his lower spine leapt through him, tearing across his balls, up through his cock and into her. Wave after wave of hot seed pumped out of him and into her, as she convulsed around him, saying his name.

Jack tried to roll off her, but she held him in place. “Sam, I'm crushing you,” he whispered, his fingertips grazing her forehead.

“You feel good... right. Stay here a minute...please, Jack.” He stayed, the sweat cooling on both their bodies.

Finally, their breathing returning to normal, he moved, rolling to the side, but quickly pulling her to him. She buried her face in his neck, and he smiled, his arms tightening around her. He reached down, not breaking contact, and pulled the bedclothes up to keep them warm, and when they settled against each other, he kissed the top of her head.

“Sam, I need to ask you ...” He hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment. But his guilt was eating at him and he knew he would not be able to sleep until he talked to her.

“What is it?” she asked, nearly asleep already, satisfied, safe in his arms.

“The first time...were you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Sam sensed his discomfort, his tension. It wasn't just the tone of his voice. It was the current of high emotion in his body. She pulled herself from the edge of sleep and focused. She needed to make him understand. “The truth is, Jack, you ruined me for other men.”

“What?” His heart beat speeded up and she could feel the strain in him.

“Wait... I didn't say that right.” She sat up and turned to look at him, seeing the pain in his face. She put her hand over his heart. “I'm going to try and get this out. You just listen, okay?” He nodded.

Sam scrunched up a pillow and lay back, getting comfortable. If she was going to do this, to explain everything to him, she needed to be comfortable. “When I was at the Pentagon, some girlfriends and I went to a Tarot reader. We did it as a lark, really. It was around Hallowe'en and we'd been out at the bars and someone suggested getting our fortunes told. All of us went. When it was my turn the fortune teller told me I was an old soul. It was something I'd always known about myself, but it was ... kinda cool to hear her say it.” Sam's voice was dreamy and Jack wondered what the hell all this had to do with him, with what he'd done to her. He turned on his side to look at her face, his movements jerky with impatience.

His turn brought her back to the task at hand, explaining herself. “My point is I've always felt ... old... more mature... something. Maybe it was my Mom dying when she did. Maybe it was my father... maybe it was just me. All I know is when I walked into that bar and saw you, I knew I wanted you.”

“You were 16, for crying out loud. You didn't know shit.”

“Yes, I did, Jack,” she said quietly. “I knew, and I acted on it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He reached for her hand, resting on top of her heart, and put his over it. She turned her head toward him. “And when you took me outside and touched me ... it was perfect.”

“Against a wall outside a bar?” he asked incredulously.

“It didn't matter where we were. It was you. You were perfect. They way your fingers moved over my skin, the feel of your lips, the way you filled me... it was perfect.” She smiled at him, the memories rushing through her. She could see he didn't believe her. She could see that his guilt and his sense of right and wrong, justice and injustice, his need to be in control were crowding into his mind and heart... just where she wanted to be. She knew she had to make him understand.

“What happened afterward? I was heartbroken. In a way it was good that I didn't know until it was too late. I mourned the loss, but not because I wanted a baby... at least not then. I grieved because I had something of you and then it was gone.” Jack closed his eyes. He felt the pain of her miscarriage viscerally, as if it had happened yesterday. Sam stroked his face gently.

“You said...” He tried again. “You said I ruined...”

“Let me explain,” she said, anxious now to get the whole thing out. “Every guy I met, I compared to you. No one touched me like you did. No one made me feel the way you did. And, let's face it, Jack, no one's... built... like you,” she said, reaching under the blankets to give him a little squeeze. He blushed. So beautiful, she thought.

“By the time I was 15 I had already skipped two grades. The guys in high school wanted nothing to do with me, geek goddess that I was.” Jack laughed softly. “In the Academy I was totally focused on the work, physical and mental. I rarely dated and, really, I didn't want to.”

“But you were engaged, to that Jonas guy,” he said.

“Yeah. Dad started hinting around. I think he might have thought I was ... you know, a lesbian, or something.” Jack's eyes widened. “Jonas was interesting. He knew about the Stargate program, so we had that in common. But when I opened the Abydos mission file and saw your picture, learned your full name, I broke it off. I knew if we were going to work together I didn't want anything, anyone distracting me.”

“But then I didn't recognize you.”

“Do you remember what you said to me, Jack, our first trip through the Stargate together?”

“No.”

“I said, once you get to know me, you're going to like me, and you said...”

“Oh, I adore you already.”

“You remember?”

“Oh yeah. I remember that you were the hottest thing walking, that we had this instant connection. And when you started talking, I got hard.” He tucked stray hairs behind her ear. “It's been that way ever since,” he said softly. “But you never told me, Sam.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“How would I start that conversation, Jack?” She stared him straight in the eye. When he nodded his understanding, she continued, “And besides, things were working out. Daniel and Teal'c, you and I, we were a team, a good team. The tension between us? We were handling it.”

“But you never gave me a chance to ... to redeem myself, Sam!” He was genuinely upset. “To apologize, at least.”

“I didn't want your apologies, Jack. I wanted you. And when it looked like I couldn't have you... you didn't remember and you were... are my CO, after all, I was reconciled never to mention it, never to pursue it again.”

He was quiet. In a faint voice he said, “But what about me, Sam? Don't you think I should get a say?”

Sam leaned over and kissed him. “You do now, Jack,” she said. They were both silent, looking in each other's eyes. Finally Sam broke. “So?”

“I'm thinking,” he said smiling at her impatience. “Alright! The way I see it is what I did to you back then... that was wrong.” He held his hand up to forestall her response. “I don't care how you spin it, Sam. It was wrong.” He glared at her in mock disapproval, when she tried to say something, but then he smiled. “But what we did back then led to what's happened today... so I guess some good came out of it.”

“Some good, Jack O'Neill?” she asked, winding an arm around his neck.

“Some very, very good, Samantha Carter,” he responded, pulling her against him.

“I can live with that,” she said, smiling.

“Me too,” he responded, slipping his knee between her thighs, rubbing his now hard cock against her belly.

“One last thing, Jack,” she said, brushing her lips against his. He hummed in response. “How did you figure it out?”

“Daniel... Daniel and a dream,” he responded.

“He told you?” Sam asked incredulously.

“No... just hints. It was really the dream. I guess my conscious mind rejected the memory, but my subconscious knew exactly what was going on.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, rolling closer to him, pressing her hips against him. “And what was that?”

“You know,” he said, his hand settling over her breast, fingertips tracing her nipple.

“Tell me, flyboy,” she said, her breath floating across his lips.

“Oh, I adore you already, Sam,” he said, taking her mouth.