Title: Elevator Antics
Author: Gomes
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: M
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Sexual themes
Disclaimer: All known characters and premises belong to their respective owners. So there.
Summary: "With the Colonel, you never know…"
Notes: A quickie one-shot written with an elevator!sex prompt from the Goa'uld mod, emosweet who loves to abuse her powers and force me into fic slavery suggest inspirational prompts. ?


"Sir."

He threw her a side glance, eyes crinkling with remorse as he ceased banging his head against the wall of the stalled elevator. "Sorry." The stalled 'we'll get you out in ten minutes even though it's been over an hour and a half, sorry for any inconveniences' elevator. Dropping his head to his chest, he drummed his fingers on his knees and hummed loudly, staring straight ahead at his reflection in the metallic surface that coated the doors.

"Sir. Please!"

He cringed at the annoyance in her voice and gave her a weak smile. "Bored out of my mind, Major."

"I know, Sir."

He watched her from the corner of his eye, ignoring the curt response and just observing her in her distractions. She was lucky - or unlucky, relatively speaking - to have smuggled a folder in her purse, complete with incomprehensible words, scientific calculations and astrophysical mumbo-jumbo thus keeping her mind, and hands, pre-occupied.

A wicked smile brewed dangerous on his lips as he stared at his own hands, reaping in power and productivity. He flipped them over, taking in the creases in his palms, the scars and cuts, the dirt and set broken bones. These were the hands of a warrior, a fighter. His eyes slyly slid over, watching her blonde strands fall as her head bowed over the multitudes of gibberish that polluted each page. They were the hands of a lover bound and imprisoned but still desperate and passionate.

He clenched his fists before straightening out his fingers again, staring at the long digits. Leaning over, he grabbed his second-in-command's camo-BDU shirt, his fingers almost zipping down the front as buttons flew in all directions. He sat back, a haughty look on his face as he took in her shocked, angered and still presence. And yet, she made no move to cover her black lacey bra that peaked from her now open shirt, to hide the tops of creamy breasts as they moved with each breath she took.

"Off." He commanded her, nodding toward the shirt, grinning smugly as her body defied the resistance in her eyes. "Come." He stretched his legs out as she stood up, discarding her shirt behind. Back pressed against the wall, he sighed aloud as she straddled his lap, feeling her heat through her pants. His hands slid up her sides, feeling goose bumps emerge as his fingertips teased with a feather-light touch.

He wanted her to see the all facets of his hands; he wanted her to feel their aggression but their comfort as well, their sympathy and passion. He wanted her to acknowledge their need to touch her, to please her, to offer and draw ecstasy from her.

He tried to convey that message as his hands slid up her frame, fingertips exploring the intricate lace patterns that her bra boasted. He reached for each strap simultaneously, sliding them gently off her shoulders as his eyes hungrily took in the milky skin of her breasts. Little by little, more skin was revealed until he could just see the tops of her rosy nipples -

" - Sir?"

His eyes focused, now seeing the concerned blues stare back at him. His eyes trailed down her chest of their own accord, disappointment most evident as he took in each and every button, standing proud and doing their duty in shielding her from his perverse stare.

"Sir, are you okay? You were clutching your shirt…I thought you were having a heart attack or something…"

He held up his right hand as he casually let go of his BDU shirt, straightening it out and dusting imaginary dirt off his pants.

"All good, Major. Just a little hot. Little warm." He grabbed the lapel of his shirt, batting it and pretending to cool himself off. He looked away, embarrassed at being caught red-handed, literally, having a sex-fantasy - not only about his second-in-command, but in her presence and to have been roughly ripped from whimsy by the same subject in question. He let out a low whistle, counting himself lucky that she didn't suspect a thing.

Sliding down until he lay on the floor, he folded his arms behind his head, letting out a more comfortable sigh. He dropped his head to the side, coming face to face with his the Major's hips, who had returned to her residency in the corner of the elevator.

He reached out and stroked a hand from her waist down to the top of her knee and back up again. He didn't bother to meet her gaze, knowing she was casting a disapproving glance towards him. His fingers stealthily made their way to the front, deftly unbuckling her belt and popping the button on her pants. Fingers walked the zipper down and his other hand soon joined in the revelation of his second-in-command's most private parts and his most private thoughts. He didn't register as she lifted her butt off the floor, allowing him to easily slide the pants down her shapely legs.

Fingers trailed upwards along silky smooth skin, as they led his carnal stare from the tips of her toes to the apex of the inside of her thighs. He gently nudged her legs apart, ignoring her remarks of improper actions and consequences calculated.

His fingers heard none of her words but instead sought out the matching lacey texture that they had experienced before. He cupped her center, feeling heat pulsate, feeling her denied desire.

He dragged his eyes to hers, seeing his want and need reflected in her own.

"Stand, Major."

He licked his lips in anticipation, as she did as commanded, body and mind now willing.

"Turn."

His eyes roamed her body hungrily, hands gripping at the muscles in her legs. He knelt, now behind her, hands on either side of her thighs. He met her eyes as she twisted around to see him before he glanced back in front of him.

There stood Samantha Carter, two pert globes of flesh separated by a thin piece of lace. He let out an aroused chuckle. Samantha Carter wore a lace thong. Underneath her tough as nails exterior, underneath the layers of camouflage cotton and flak jackets and bullet proof vests, underneath all the standard, issued clothing…lay something so incredibly feminine that he felt his own arousal twitch.

He leaned over, lips moistened with desire and mouth slightly parted, eager to sink his teeth in her pale flesh -

"Sir. I think we're moving."

He blinked a couple of times, looking around the small cabin that housed them. "Wha…?" He glanced down at his hands, noticing them clutching at his thighs, their knuckles a pasty white.

"Sir…are you okay? You've been acting eerily strange…"

"Fine, Major. Really. Just a little uh…claustrophobic." He stood up, watching her do the same as the doors finally opened. He watched the Major greet the doctor and long-time friend, as the two stopped and chatted for a moment. He excused himself past them and deliberately slowed down, listening to their gabbling.

"So, what did you two do to pass time?"

He grinned unabashedly at Janet's whispered question to his second-in-command, as he walked in front of the two ladies, eavesdropping without shame.

"Actually…we didn't talk much. I had my notes and the Colonel…well the Colonel just sat there silently, with an odd look on his face. Almost like this smug, satisfied grin, y'know?"

He relived key moments of his day-dream though his ears still picked up their voices, their intents.

"Hmm. Wonder what he was thinking about…"

He breathed a chuckle, knowing the doctor's intent curiosities were well past conversational.

"With the Colonel, you never know. Though they must have been some kind of good from that look he had…"

The voices began to mute as the two ladies turned, heading towards the mess hall while he continued his journey to the locker rooms, a cold shower on his mind.