Pinning her hips between his knees, Jack knelt up and wrestled with the cuffs of his shirt, wondering the whole time why they always got so turned on when they had on clothing that was almost impossible to shed quickly. While he was doing that, Sam – in her quick, precise, military/scientist way – had opened the front of his trousers and wrapped her fingers around him. Cotton boxers and all. She squeezed, pulled, and Jack said warningly, "Sam."

It only made her grin and look much too smug. "Not tonight," she said, "What are you supposed to call me tonight?"

"God, you are such a little..."

"What?"

Jack laughed, because she was sweet and hot and sexy as sin and he wanted her so, so badly.

Because she was Sam, no matter what else she wanted him to call her.

"General," he finished, and concentrated on his shirt, finally managing to get his hands free of the cuffs and shrug out of it. He left on the torn tank shirt. It looked like it was getting Sam seriously worked up.

Sam chuckled and stroked him, moving the fabric of his boxers up and down as she did.

"I thought this was the little General," she said.

"Little?" He huffed, trying to look affronted and failing. "Woman, you haven't been paying close enough attention."

"Woman?"

"Oh, fine." He bent over and began worshipping her skin with his lips and tongue. "General O'Neill. General Ooooh-Neill."

Sam was shaking with laughter, gasping and moaning at the same time. Then he knelt up, scooting down to work her tight little skirt off her hips and down the long, long legs he adored. The panties and garter didn't disappoint and suddenly Jack could barely breathe. She had the attention of every cell in his body. She was absolutely the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life and he wanted to screw her into the floor.

"Get your pants off," she ordered.

"Yes,ma'am," he said, in a voice of mock deference.

She watched him strip with hot, hungry eyes. He had just gotten his last sock off when she tackled him and sent him tumbling over onto his back. She straddled him, grasping his wrists in a tight hold and pinning them to his sides.

Jack had almost forgotten that she knew a little bit about physical combat. He twisted one hand free and used it to pull her head down so he could kiss her. It started as a tease and quickly escalated into a you-are-so-mine-even-if-you-are-on-top kiss.

Sam was into it too, giving back as good as he gave.

"Is this how it's going to be now? You on top?" Jack asked just before his mouth went to work on the skin below her ear.

"You never minded me being on top before," she said.

"I think I should show you who still holds rank here," Jack threatened.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

Jack surged up, caught her around the waist and flipped them both over in a single, smooth motion that knocked the wind out of her for a moment. He trapped her wrists in one hand and held them over her head while the other hand smoothed over her body in long feather-light strokes. Sam gasped, groaned and at last stopped laughing.

He pressed down and Sam was all soft skin, firm and pliant at the same time; lean muscle; heavy breasts crushed against his chest. Sam struggled playfully for a moment, more to rub against him than to protest. He smothered another laugh with a decisive kiss.

"Jack," she panted. "Jack, damn, please…"

At first he thought maybe she really did want out from under him so he moved off a little. But all she had wanted was to get her legs free from between his so she could wrap them around him. At no point had she stopped to remove panties, garters or nylons. She wriggled again, arched up and reached down to move the thin strip of fabric between her legs out of the way. She had him halfway inside before he knew what was happening.

Sneaky little…General.

Off-guard and focused entirely on the way her body felt around his cock, hot and wet and tight, the next thing Jack knew she had turned the tables on him. With a deft, forceful push of her hands, he was flat on his back again, staring up at her as she settled down, taking all of him with her eyes closed in sensual bliss. Her hands were on his chest for balance now and he understood that this was what she had planned all along. Any thought he had of changing positions again fled. His chest and stomach and thighs tingled with warning and he tried to clamp down on it.

Sam whimpered a little bit and then it changed to a low, sexual purr and Jack almost lost it. Then she was moving on him, hips rocking as she panted and rocked, just the way he liked, just the way he always wanted her to. She started to moan without stopping, wordlessly, like she was going to die if she didn't come, and soon.

It was impossible for Jack to hold back, not with her doing all that. He let go, pushing up, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise and he couldn't help it because it was Sam and it was spectacular.

He was shuddering through aftershocks and the implosion of shattered nerve endings when he realized Sam was coming. Her body froze for an instant and then she was shaking like mad, convulsing on him. Jack reached up and pulled her down into his arms, holding her through it. He kissed her neck and shoulders and felt the strain in her muscles. He knew how good it was. He could hear it. So could the neighbors, probably.

When she finally quieted down, he let her collapse onto him, exhausted and content. When she finally lifted her head to look him in the eyes he almost laughed again because she had a kind of goofy smile on her face and her skin was flushed hot pink and her hair was sticking up.

"What?" she asked, seeing something in his eyes.

Jack smiled, rolled them both over onto their sides and wrapped her up in his arms and legs.

In his best French accent he purred, "Nothing, mon Général."

Sam pretended to inhale as if she was stunned.

"Tish," she said, starting to kiss him from his jaw to his neck to his shoulder. "You spoke French!"

Jack snorted, chuckled deep in his chest. He brought one hand up to pick through her tousled hair. She kept kissing down his arm until she reached the bend in his elbow and had to start back up. She didn't stop when she got to his mouth and Jack wanted to tell her that he was probably done for the night. If she wanted a round two he was going to have to plead age catching up with him or something….

But he was too busy kissing her back. His hands reached for her again. His arms wrapped around the slim waist. Sam kissed him with such yearning, such absolute love.

All right, he thought. There were plenty of other ways to make her moan and shiver, to make her cry his name and wake the neighbors again.

He loved her and he wanted her. He wanted her so much it sometimes made him crazy.

When she broke off it took him a moment to refocus. Sam was rolling off him, sitting and then kneeling.

"What?" he asked, dazed.

"Bed sound good to you?" she asked. "Or do we want to stay out here until you get rug burn on your ass again?"

Jack huffed out a breath of laughter as he sat up. "Bed sound very good."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "You're not sleeping. I'm not done with you yet."

She grabbed his hand and hauled him towards the bedroom. Jack followed, bemused and besotted.

"I love you, General O'Neill," Jack said.

She grinned as she shut the door, put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him towards the bed.

"I love you too, General O'Neill," she answered.