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Actions Speak Louder Than Words

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Had he been a man of words he would have warned her that, in 15 seconds, he had every intention of kissing her. Maybe even hoisting her up onto the kitchen table too, but he didn't want to push it for a first kiss, so would see where the mood took them.

He would also tell her that he had never met a woman like her; didn't deserve to have a woman that incredible, intelligent, beautiful nor impressive waste her precious time on a battered, grumpy, old General but, God, he hoped she would.

He would then say she had, well about 5 seconds now, to tell him no or he was very definitely going to kiss her like he had wanted to for eight long years.

But, he wasn't a man of words, never had been; he was a man of action.

So, instead, he put the collected plates on the cabin's kitchen counter, turned her to him with a hand on her arm and the other moving to her cheek, and looked in her eyes in a way he hoped conveyed all he wanted to say but couldn't.

When he didn't receive a slap to the face or a knee to the...(he didn't want to think about that)... he gently pressed his lips to hers.


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Good god that man could kiss. It was slow, tentative but with promise. Rhythmic? Could a kiss be rhythmic? Mesmerising but not predictable. She could feel him holding back, lightly touching her cheek and her hip while he was riling her up to need to feel all of him.

She heard herself give a breathy, almost frustrated moan before she arched into him; her fingers pressing into the base of his back, her body touching him from knees to lips.

Yes. His fingers on her hip dug into her skin and he pulled her into him impossibly more, his kiss suddenly firing with passion and promise and eight goddamn long years of wanting. He backed her up until the kitchen counter was pressing into her rear but, holy god , she didn't care. Not when that hand slid up to her waist, the tip of his long thumb just skirting the underwire of her bra and his leg settling between hers.

Not when she bunched his shirt in her fist and her fingers dragged across bare skin, feeling the vibration a moan dance across his tongue as it stroked against hers. God she wanted him. More than she ever had. 'Want' wasn't even a strong enough word; she needed him. The heady fog of desire clouded over every other possible thought in her mind, until she tried to grab onto the counter to lift herself up and sent a fork scattering loudly to the floor.

They both pulled away to look at the offending article that had broken them apart and neither could help but grin as they looked back at each other.

Him with the one hand high on her waist, other threaded through her hair. Shirt rucked at the back with one of her hands still flat against his skin.

Her with one leg curled to his hip as she had tried to hoist herself up, her lips swollen, red and thoroughly kissed.

The all-consuming immediacy of their passion had died away to a shared chuckle, a self-conscious look down and a deep sigh.

She found herself asking, “Should we be doing this?”



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He swallowed. He could taste her on his tongue and feel her all around him. As much as this was her choice - had always been her choice - he really, really didn't it to end. "Do you want to do this?" His voice was quiet, hoarse.

"It's not that easy, S-...J-...” She extricated herself from him, “I don't even know what to call you!" She pulled a chair out from the table and sat down with a thud.

He had both hands braced on the counter when she moved away, silently praying to any and every deity up there - false or otherwise - that she wasn't walking away now after he had heard her make those noises. When she said that though, he couldn't help but laugh.

She looked around, almost insulted that he could joke at a time like this, but then she heard her words and found herself mirroring his grin and chuckle.

He crossed to the fridge and pulled out two beers, twisting the caps off and passing her a bottle. “Probably best to not call me 'Sir' when talking about - or doing - that."

"Noted," she smirked. "Jack."

That sounded good. He could count on one hand the amount of times she'd called him that outside of introductions. "It could be that easy."

"You're not retiring. Not for me."


"No," she shook her head. "You are not leaving the programme over me. I won't let you. You're too important. It's too important."

"Sam," he put his fingers – wet and chilled from the beer bottle - on her wrist, hoping he could get a word into her defiance. "Hammond is retiring."


"The President wants me for Homeworld Security."

Her mouth formed a word but no sounds came with it.

"So, it could be that easy." His fingers fully clasped around her wrist, this thumb stroking a shape across her skin. "Well, I'm not saying there wouldn't be lies or sneaking around... but...”


"You don't have to decide now. You don't have to decide tomorrow or a week from now, or ever, just... just know that I'm all in." If he was a man of words, he'd say there had been women she knew about and women she didn't, but since meeting Sam and getting to know her, there was no point in looking elsewhere; She was the one. "I'm all in."

She had tears sparkling in her eyes. "No pressure.” He put the beer in the sink and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, his hand lingering on her shoulder as he passed, “Don't forget to turn out the lights."

She heard the click of his bedroom door closing and she let out a breath. Could it be that easy? Say eight years was enough and do their best to keep a relationship under wraps? They'd done so well at avoiding everything so far, what made them think they could choose themselves over the Programme now?

Because it was eight years. They'd lost so many, survived so much. Hell, they'd all freakin' died! Was that not enough to choose themselves for once? If Hammond really was retiring and the Gen-Jack moving to DC, everything was changing anyway. Maybe people wouldn't notice in all the upheaval.

Choose yourself for once rang through her mind again. She looked back to the countertop and felt the desirous clench of her stomach again. “Fuck it.”

She gulped down a decent mouthful of her beer, placed it next to Jack's in the sink and made for the hallway. After a quick jog back to turn the kitchen light off, she passed the room she had been sharing with Teal'c and Daniel and had a fleeting, flush-inducing thought that they would know she hadn't slept in her bed. Also, that she was glad the room was across the hall from Jack's and not adjoining...

She turned and stood outside Jack's door. Licking her lips and fixing her hair, she brought her hand up to knock before just grasping the handle and twisting.

The room was dark but he was silhouetted against the window; she couldn't make out his features but knew he was looking at her. She closed the door behind her, “I'm all in too.”


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He was crossing the room to her almost immediately, she could feel her heart racing with each step he took, wanting him to get to her quicker and push her up against the door and restart where they left off.

He was circling the bed when there was a sudden thud and Jack doubled over with a curse. “Jack?”

“Stubbed my damn toe on the bed.”

Sam gave a burst of quiet laughter; If it wasn't Goa'uld or politics keeping them apart, it seemed to be cutlery and bed posts. She sat next to him on the bed as he held onto his foot and flexed his toes, “Is it broken?”

“I don't care,” he practically growled and he had one hand on her cheek and was bringing his lips to hers again.

She moaned his name as he shuffled further back on the bed and she manoeuvred so she was straddling his hips. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't imagined herself in just this position, with Jack's hands firmly on her ass, her fingers in his hair and their tongues sliding against each other.

His hands slid up and under her tee shirt, bunching the fabric and continuing the route up with it until he could slide it from her arms and toss it away. His followed suit as soon as she was freed and he put his hands back on her hips and smoothed a path up her skin. She was silken, soft and responding to his touch in ways his mind had always hoped.

She pushed up into him, her hips beginning a rhythm as his hands grasped onto her breasts, playing with her nipples through the white lace of her bra and dragging a cup down until he could take one in his mouth. She gasped his name, her fingers in his hair guiding his tongue while her hips were writhing for satisfying purchase against the seam of her jeans.

His hands slid behind her back, undid the clasp of her bra and smoothed the straps from her shoulders, his tongue maintaining the flick, suck, nibble, sooth, twirl and quickly taking the entirety of her other breast in his palm.

Though his mouth and fingers were doing amazing things, she needed more. She scrambled off his lap, his mouth chasing the lost contact and looking to her with an adorable paradox of confused, dazed and oh so aroused with very tousled hair and dark chocolate eyes.

She stood before him in the shaft of moonlight, a curvaceous shadow cast across his bedroom wall. She took in the quick rise and fall of his chest, the faint red scratches amongst the greying hair and the promise for much more from his tented jeans.

Though she kept looking at his eyes – dark, heavily lidded, seductive – his followed the path of her hands as she slid them over her breasts, down her stomach and slowly popped the button of her jeans. She wrenched the sides apart, the scrape of the zipper along the teeth of her fly accentuated by the sound of his groan as her hips swayed, the material pooling to the floor.

Yep, she just gave her a CO a little striptease. And if she got that reaction every time, well, it might be something she did again in the future. His hands bunched into fists and her name was a deep, guttural growl from deep within that sent a flood of wetness between her legs.

She stepped out of the jeans and, instead of retaking her position on his lap, she crawled up the bed at his side and propped herself on her elbows near the pillows. His turn.

His hands didn't take a journey over his body for her benefit, nor hips sway as the denim dropped to the floor, but, oh, it had the same effect. The first sight she had of what looked to be an impressive erection was the ethereal moonlit shadow of his tented boxers on the wall. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth. “Jack.”

He kissed, licked, nipped his way along her thighs, over her hips, up her stomach, not staying long enough in any area for her liking until he got to her breasts and took her nipple back between his lips. She gasped as he took as much of her breast as he could into his mouth, scraping his teeth slowly back and swirling his tongue around the peak as she threaded her hands in his hair, keeping him right where she wanted him.

He switched to the other, laving the same attention, learning what to do to make her gasp again, make her breathe his name and arch into his touch. He flicked, swirled, sucked...and then groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder.

She had slipped her hand between their bodies, under the waistband of his boxers and wrapped her fingers around him. He had had his focus elsewhere so the first journey and twist of her wrist on his skin was a surprise – a delicious surprise – and one that totally blindslided him.

She wrapped her legs tighter around him, cocooning him as her hands repeated their ministrations, turning into his face and pulling his earlobe between her teeth. Her tongue soothed where her teeth had bitten and circled the shell of his ear, as he began panting into her shoulder, thrusting into her hand. She felt the groan rumbling in his chest before it left his lips when she hoarsely whispered into his ear, “Sir.

It took him a beat to recover from the sound, those words leaving her mouth whilst her hand was providing perfect pressure, twist and speed up and around him. He quickly shuffled down her body, causing a frustrated moan of her own at the loss of contact, but then another smirk as he whispered words between kisses down her chest and stomach. “Wicked...wicked...beautiful...woman.”

He hooked his thumbs into her last barrier, slipped her underwear from her legs and tossed them over his shoulder. With little to no preamble, he knelt between her thighs and had the flat of his tongue against her clit before she'd been able to take a breath.

She arched off the bed and fell back, her head hitting the pillow and her hands taking fistfuls of the sheet.

He circled, flicked, sucked the entire bud of nerves between his lips, throwing an arm over her hips to steady her writhing and using the tips of his fingers to tease her entrance. Her breath caught in her throat, a pleading noise building from her chest as she tried to thrust her body down onto his hand.

He circled the puckered skin, slick from her arousal as his tongue flicked over her clit again; the keening noise gaining volume and words until he repeated the delicious torture and inserted one, two fingers, building a steady rhythm as the tip of tongue drew shapes, words, even freakin' gate addresses, anything to make her eyes screw shut, her back arch off the bed and the breathy panting noises to leave her full lips.

He had to thrust gently against the bed to relieve the pressure of his erection because good holy fucking god if the visual and audio from above him wasn't the goddamn sexiest thing to have happened to him possibly ever.

He could feel the fluttering of her muscles around his fingers as she raced towards orgasm. Her mouth was trying for words but her breath was coming out in audible pants save for the occasional yes, Jack, Oh God.

He quickened his pace on her clit; his fingers thrusting, twisting, curling, as his tongue flicked, sucked and licked at her, her body rising from the bed as her hands and toes coiled into the sheets. His name was almost a breathy chant, pleading as she climbed further and further until her thighs practically trapped his head and her orgasm crashed over her; white heat exploding from within, a frustrated release of pleasure sounding from deep within her chest as he continued his ministrations, guiding her vibrating body through the hardest climax she could ever remember.

Eventually, she let go of a held breath, her body crashing back to the bed and awareness after what felt to her like minutes.

He rid himself of his boxers and climbed back up her body, kisses peppering her flushed skin until her reached her neck. He focussed his attention onto the dip of her collarbone, waiting for her to seemingly return to him, her breath in quick pants.


He leant over her on an elbow and couldn't help the satisfied smirk on his lips. Oh, he'd be wearing that for a long time and she would have no choice but to let him. She brought him down for a kiss, hooking her leg over his hips and encouraging him to settle over her. Sliding a hand between them, she grasped his erection and guided him to her entrance, her muscles still spasming in aftershocks of intense pleasure.

His voice was hoarse, deep against her lips as her name escaped him, his hips thrusting through her hand and into her warmth. “Sam,” was followed by a curse, his eyes screwing shut and his body tensing as he willed himself back into control. She was silken, slick and warm around him, her breasts pushed up against his chest and her hands scraping down his back and up his buttocks.

He set a tentative pace. Slow, rhythmic thrusts, her body matching his speed and encouraging more, faster, harder. Just the tip of him remained within her before he slammed back in, building to a crushing rhythm as he grunted into her shoulder, her fingers pressed into his flesh and over her sensitive clit, her legs enveloping him further up his body. His quiet groans punctuated each thrust as his pace faltered, his breathing labored and her muscles convulsing around him as another orgasm suddenly crashed through her. A few thrusts more and he followed her over the edge, her name growled into her ear as his body curved over hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, keeping his weight on her until she finally needed a full breath. He rolled off and she followed, settling against his sweaty chest and placing a kiss onto his skin.

“That...” he started, unable to find the breath to finish the sentence, never mind the words.




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She was stirring, the morning light shining directly onto the sheet covering her naked body and warming her to wakefulness. She slowly focussed onto the wood panelling of the strange bedroom as the memories filtered back into her mind. She looked to the side to confirm they weren't just a delicious, evil dream, but there he was; still sound asleep, his face towards the window and the sheet down by his hips. His toned but soft chest rising with his breaths; the coarse, greying chest hair begging to be threaded through her fingers, much like it had been the night before.

She snaked a hand over his skin, through the hair and shuffled over to rest against him. He slowly came awake, blinking into the light and then twisting to look down at the smirking blonde with her head on his chest.

“Hi,” she whispered, placing a kiss over his heart.

“G'morning,” he licked his lips and ushered her up by smoothing a hand up her silken, bare back. It was just supposed to be a peck of a morning kiss, but the passion quickly fired. She put a hand on either side of his shoulders and leant down to kiss him fully, her leg slipping between his as his hands framed her face.

He could get very used to this. She too.

She groaned at his wandering hands but reluctantly pulled away, “We shouldn't.” The sudden fear that flashed over his face had her scrambling to speak again, “The guys, they'll be awake.”

He tucked his hands behind his head, “Otherwise...”

“Oh, yes.”

His lips tilted to a smirk. “Coffee would be good...”

“Coffee would be good,” she rolled off him and tugged the sheet to untangle from around her legs. She grabbed for her jeans, “How do we- I mean, they're going to-”

He had a tee shirt and fresh boxers on when he crossed to her, collecting his jeans from near her feet. “I'm not sure I've heard you babble about something non-science before.”

She tugged down her shirt, “What do we say?”

“We say 'Did anyone make coffee yet?'” He grabbed her arms when she stood up, “Sam, they're going to know the second we step out there. We're adults, and I'm pretty sure they've been expecting something like this to happen for a long time.”


“Yeah,” he leant in and kissed her, again aiming for just a sentence-ending peck but ending up winding his arms around her and deepening the kiss.

“Jack,” she whispered against his lips, “Coffee.”

“Coffee. Right.”

She reached back up to his lips, though, restarting the kiss with just as much passion and her fingers slipping under his clothing and scraping down his back. She pulled back when she felt the growl in his chest, “Coffee.”

She straightened his tee shirt and opened the door, leading the way to the kitchen, her stomach churning as she heard the radio playing.

Sam stood at the doorway, not sure what to do with herself.

“Morning kids, did anyone make coffee yet?”

Daniel barely looked up from the newspaper, “S'on the side.”

“Excellent,” Jack ushered Sam towards towards the percolator and poured her a cup. She leant her back against the counter – her eyes locking with Jack's in a smirk about that very countertop – before she took the proffered cup and looked away. Teal'c was reading a section of the paper on the couch – the funnies if she recognised it correctly – while Daniel was leafing through the current affairs.

“Bacon, anyone?”

He got three affirmative answers and turned for the fridge while Sam took her coffee out to the porch. Jack cast a look over his shoulder and watched her leave. While he busied himself with the frying pan and package from the fridge, Daniel cleared his throat and gestured to Teal'c that he would be outside.

Jack watched him close the door behind him and when he looked back Teal'c was suddenly at his side, stealth belying his size once again.

"Bacon?" Jack asked, slowly recognising the man's squared shoulders and deep set frown he saved for the battlefield. It was a warning. Wordless, though voluble and crystal clear. "I know, buddy. I know."

Satisfied by the look in sincerity and a little bit of fear, Teal'c gave a slight bow, glad they had come to an understanding.

Jack returned to moving the bacon around the pan, blowing out a breath.


Sam stepped out onto the porch, a frigid morning chill enveloping her as she looked out to the low mist hanging over the pond. She took a deep breath of the fresh air scented with pine trees and wild flowers and just a hint of yesterday's bbq coals.

"Hey," Daniel's voice sounded behind her. She flashed a smile over her shoulder and brought her mug to her lips, held within two hands.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, drinking their coffees before the cool air got to them and watching birds in the distant trees. No cars passed, no planes, no gliders or Alkesh, just nature. She smiled to him again, a peace within she hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

"It's good to see you smile again, Sam."

She tried to fight the flush at the real reason behind her smile, and that her friend knew it. "It's been a rough few months."

"More like years."

She nodded, a darkness flashing over her face and through her heart. She chased them away with a mouthful of coffee and the memory of last night and that morning.

Daniel didn't have the words to say, nicely, that he was happy for her finally screwing Jack's brains out, and how he knew of a few pretty decent sized holes due to architectural digs to chuck Jack into if he even hinted at hurting her. He didn't suspect Jack would, but...

Instead, he tugged on her arm until she stepped sideways and into his embrace.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her mug still in hand as her chin settled on his shoulder. He had one arm around her neck, the other on her back. "I love you, Sam." He'd never had siblings, she was the closest he'd get.

"Love you too."

She could feel her eyes well up with tears again and couldn't wait for her emotions to get back into check - grief had a lot to answer for.

"Listen, Teal'c and I are gonna head back today."

"What? No, you don't need to."

"I know. But you two need some time to yourselves."


"We'll take the scenic route back, I'll show Teal'c the world's biggest ball of yarn or something. We'll all meet back at the base at the same time and no one will know anything."


"Sam, let us do this for you."

Those damn tears were threatening again. She nodded, a flush rising up to her cheeks. "Thank you."

"Now, I don't need to give you a talk about safety or - ow!"

She was laughing while Daniel rubbed his swatted arm.

Teal'c and Daniel had packed up their car and were on the road within a few hours. "So..." Sam started, as he closed the door.


"What now?"

Jack pulled him into her so she practically fell against his chest and kissed her with all the promise of the night before.