At his bedroom door, she hesitated. She looked back down the hallway as if one of the guys knew where she had gone, but she could still hear their voices in the living room. She knocked lightly and butterflies took flight in her belly. What was she doing? She stood there for a long moment, contemplating how stupid she was being, how she'd misread the signals, how the night before had been an aberration, when suddenly the door before her was pulled open and he stood in front of her bare-chested with a towel around his neck and shaving cream on his face.

A smile quirked on his lips but he didn't say anything. Neither did she, she was gaping at him, like a goldfish, though, and he seemed to find that amusing. He reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind her. Finally, when he did speak, it was to say two words, "Sit down." He tipped his head towards his bed and made his way back into his bathroom.

She looked uneasily at his well-made bed. This whole thing felt a little surreal. She sat primly on the end of his bed and found she had a view right into his bathroom where she was looking at the strong lines of his back and shoulders and could just see his face in the mirror. It was an interesting experience to watch him shave. She'd seen him do it in the field but she'd never really watched – it had always felt a bit too intimate. It felt intimate this time too, but she was sitting in his bedroom, on his bed, he was half naked, and she'd been invited here, for what, she wasn't too certain, but intimate seemed like the name of the game.

She felt the familiar tingle between her legs and even as she tried to convince herself that she wasn't going to be needing such bodily preparations, she thought, maybe, just maybe, she might.

He took his time, she noticed, gliding the razor over his face. And more than once she found she met his eyes in the mirror. Each time was like a string tied between the sensitive place inside her that was her pleasure and a spot inside the mirror and his eyes would tug, giving the most pleasurable, titillating sensation. She felt herself growing slick and slippery inside her jeans just off the weight of his gaze.

Finally, he finished. She watched him bend and wash the lingering shaving foam off his face. Her eyes lingered on his backside, outlined by his trousers. It was a very nice backside, one she'd spent more than a little time contemplating over the years. She knew it well. As he stood up, he pulled the towel from around his neck and dried his face. She watched as it hid his face from view and then, as the towel and his hands dropped, their eyes met once again in the mirror and she felt, for the first time, the full force of his gaze, unencumbered by a task, and it felt like she'd been hit in the center of the chest.

She gasped. He turned and leaned back against the countertop and stared at her. Her eyes wandered down, down, down his bare chest, tripped over the chest hair – she'd always had a thing for chest hair and his was going attractively grey, over his taut abdomen – it's a miracle; crunches, to the front panel of his pants and she could see he was not unaffected by the way their eyes had kept clashing in the mirror. He didn't move to hide his burgeoning arousal from her eyes.

He pushed himself off the countertop and sauntered his way toward her. He stopped about three feet away. His eyes were heavy on her. She suddenly felt compelled to speak to him. His eyes, it seemed, implored her to speak. "I owe you an apology."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You do?"

"Last night-"

He was quick to cut her off, "You don't owe me anything for last night. And you sure as hell don't owe me an apology."

"I know you knew I was there. At the end..."

"I knew you were there at the beginning," he revealed.

She felt herself blush. She had the sudden urge to flee. She had the sudden urge to reach out and see what he felt like, half hard.

"I feel..." But she found she wasn't quite sure how she felt. She felt a little off balance, sure.

"Like maybe this is all a little off balance?" he supplied.

It was like he was in her head. It was that way in the field though. What made her think it would be any different when it was just the two of them? "Yeah," she breathed.

"I've got a theory," he said, and advanced on her one step. It forced her to tip her head back to look up at him slightly.

"Yeah?" Her voice was still breathy but he didn't seem bothered by it.

"I think you need a little of what I had."

"What you had?" she asked dumbly.

"Release," he said, stepping up to her. She leaned back to keep him in her field of vision.

Her elbows hit the bed behind her and she found herself reclined on her CO's bed. And damn if that wasn't the stuff of fantasies. "I want to watch you, Sam."

He wanted to watch her? Do what? He waited. Slowly, her lust-fuzzed mine caught up. He wanted to watch her... the same way she'd watched him the night before. Oh. Well. She'd never actually... in front of anyone before. Especially not in front of someone she wasn't already sleeping with.

"You don't have to say yes," he said, but then he reached for her and threaded his fingers into the hair at her temple. She felt the way his fingertips glided over the shell of her ear. She shuddered.

"What about Daniel and Teal'c?"

"Teal'c has instructions to take Daniel to breakfast."

"But... won't Daniel wonder where we are?"

"Maybe."

"But we don't care anymore," she said, the weight that had been ever-present in her chest since they'd been staring at each other across a force-shield suddenly shifting away.

"No, we don't care anymore."

She wasn't worried about Daniel. Daniel had, not so long ago, expressed his opinion about Jack and Sam and how things should be between them. And she wasn't worried that he'd go around saying things to people he shouldn't say them to because he understood the potential ramifications of a change in the nature of Sam and Jack's relationship. So Teal'c and Daniel going to breakfast on their own was just... one step in a direction that was... just fine, as far as Sam was concerned.

She suddenly had so many questions. Why last night? Why having her catch him? Why this cat and mouse? Why not something more conventional? And why was she wasting time with questions when she could be sprawled out on his bed halfway to an orgasm right now?

Suddenly she was aware of things she hadn't been aware of before. Like the way his scent permeated the room. She took a deep breath and let herself relax. Her fingers, that had been clenched into fists on her thighs moved to the buttons of her shirt. She looked at him and watched a lazy smile spread across his face.

"Yeah?"

"Everything smells like you in here," she said, rather than answer him directly.

His eyes went dark and smoldering then like he hadn't realized how much he turned her on just by being him until she'd said that.

She made short work of her buttons and then she peeled her shirt off leaving her in her tank top. She pulled it off over her head quickly, before she lost her nerve but found, when she was in her bra, that her nerves weren't quite as steely as she'd hoped for. She felt goosebumps break out over her skin. She chased them away by smoothing her hands over her skin. First over her belly then up, over her breasts. He made a sound in the back of his throat as she held herself in her hands. The sound made her reach for the clasp. It made her brave. She was throwing the garment onto the floor in the next moment and then scootching back on his bed to recline against the pillows that were stacked against the headboard.

He sat then on the end of the bed, so he could watch her. She wasn't sure if he was a breast man or not – some men where, some weren't and she didn't have the benefit of a sexual history with him to know whether or not to spend time here or not. This had to truly be about her and her pleasure. While the show might be, ultimately, for him, the release was hers and hers alone.

So she took her time with her breasts, the way she liked to when she had the time and she was alone. She ran her fingertips over the smooth skin, scraped her fingernails over her nipples then pinched lightly, rolling the tightening buds between her index fingers and thumbs.

She watched his face as she worked on her body and found that it turned her on so much more to see the way his eyes focused on her, flitted between her face and her breasts.

Her hands traveled down her torso to trail along her belly flirting with the sensitive skin.

She moaned lightly as she brushed against the undersides of her breasts on her upstrokes and tickled her abs on her downstrokes. She alternated between the teasing touches and gripping her breasts tightly to assuage the tension that was building inside her.

Soon, she reached for the button of her jeans. She found that she wasn't feeling that self consious about taking her pants off. She popped the button and then, feeling bold she asked him, "Help me?"

He got up from his perch at the end of the bed and pulled at her jeans from the ankles. They slipped down her body and he whipped them off and dropped them at the foot of the bed. In the most sultry manner she could, she spread her legs, first one and then the other. He gaped. She dropped a hand between her thighs and drew her middle finger up through her dewy wetness.

Feeling reckless she pulled her hand up to her mouth and sucked the moist digit between her lips and hummed, sucking the essence of her arousal off her finger. She'd forgotten what she tasted like, the sweet, tangy, mild flavor.

Jack licked his lips. His eyes had gone nearly black even in the well lit room.

She dropped her hand back between her legs and circled her clit with her fingers. It felt divine and she groaned with pleasure. Her free hand moved up to her breast to toy with her nipple, not because she needed the stimulation, really, but because she knew the visual would be good for him and she really, really wanted this to be as good for him as she knew it was going to be for her. No, she was getting all the stimulation she needed right between her legs.

Soon, though, the need to be filled was strong, and she trailed her second hand down her body, stopping to stroke her fingers over her ribs, or around her belly button, or over her hipbone. She slipped two fingers inside her herself, surprised to find she was so wet that she slipped incredibly easily.

It was more arousing than she'd ever imagined to be doing this while he was watching. His eyes on her while she caressed her own body added an element that she couldn't have predicted. And it wasn't just that she wanted to put on a good show for him. It was that it was him. It was knowing that at any moment his grip could snap and he could surge toward her, yank her hands off her body, and fill her of his own accord. And damn if the idea of him snapping was turning her on to the point of making her wet and sloppy. She could hear her hands between her legs, moving in and out. It was almost embarrassing.

Or, it would have been embarrassing if he didn't have that look on his face. That look that said that any minute he was going to be face first between her legs. And that just turned her on further.

She made a needy sort of sound that sounded wanton even to her own ears.

"What do you need?" he asked her.

She licked her lips. There were so many things she wanted. But nothing she really needed. She was so close to coming. Could she really ask him for anything? But then, she realized, it was simple. What she really needed was incredibly simple. "Touch me," she said. "just, put your hand on me," she panted.

He reached out and curled a hand around her ankle. Just the feeling of his warm skin on hers was enough to ramp her up to the point of no return. She felt the finish line creep up on her. It took just a few more circles of her fingers, a few more deep thrust and she felt the power of an orgasm grab her and turn her in on herself before making her fly apart.

When she came back to herself, Jack's hand was on her naked hip and he was sitting up next to her, his other hand gently stroking her sternum and brushing against the swells of her breasts. She had no clue how long it had taken her to ride the wave of her pleasure, but it must have taken her a bit because he had a slightly bemused smile on his face.

"You want another shower?" he asked her softly.

"I want a nap," she said languidly.

"Samantha Carter's naked in my bed, asking for a nap," he said and shook his head as if to dispel a dream. "Things are going to change now."

"Things have already changed," she pointed out, and then yawned.

"Go to sleep," he said, chuckling.

"Come with me."

He laid down on the bed next to her, wearing a grin. "I'm not tired."

"Oh," she said, languidly, reaching for him, "I think we can fix that."