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Escape Pod

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It isn't that she's uncomfortable, really. Sure, it's a little strange to be trapped in a Goa'uld escape pod with her commanding officer, but really, it's a minor inconvenience when the alternative is being dead.

They're trapped face-to-face and the pod is horizontal-ish on the ground where they've landed; their heads are slightly elevated. Something is wrong with the latching mechanism on the door and they're not going anywhere. She's on top and trying not to rest her weight completely on him, but it's a losing battle. Her arms are only capable of holding her up so long and she can feel the ache in her abdomen from the way she's trying to keep their midsections from fitting together.

"Carter," he finally says when she's been shifting uncomfortably for a few minutes, "just relax."

"I don't want to... crush you."

He barks out a laugh. "You're not going to crush me."

She huffs, but relaxes her arms, her abs, and her thighs, until she's lying on top of him – her head next to his. She can feel his soft exhalations against her ear. His breathing doesn't change, so she assumes this really is okay for him. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Did you arrange for those Jaffa to ring onto the Alkesh and storm us?"

"No, but--"

"Did you make sure there were only four escape pods despite there being five of us?"

"Well, no, but--"

"And did you honestly want to be this up close and personal with your dad?" He chuckles.

"Um, no."

"And there's no way Teal'c was fitting anyone else in the pod with him."

"But Daniel--"

"Carter, it's okay."

They've been actively flirting for a while but Sam isn't sure if it's a pastime for him or if he is really attracted to her. She is really attracted to him. Which is why she knew better than to follow him into the escape pod, even though he'd yelled her name and held out his hand to haul her inside with him. "Okay," she decides. She relaxes a little more and is intrigued by the way their bodies mold together when hers isn't strung tight with tension.

He's solid beneath her. And warm. Which probably isn't great considering they're in an enclosed space with only enough ventilation to allow for continual breathing. She thinks, for a moment, about how that works. Because wouldn't any oxygen inside the pod be sucked into space through the small slits that serve as the ventilation holes? She focuses on that for a while so she doesn't have to concern herself with how good he feels pressed up against her.

It's been a long time, a couple of years at least, since she's been so close to a man. Her body is reminding her of that with every breath she takes that pushes her breasts into the hard wall of his chest. She feels the buzz of awareness travel through her body.

He shifts. She immediately presses her hands against the back wall of the pod and lifts her body off of his. He's moving his arms like they were going to sleep, and maybe they had been, squished between his body and the sides of the pod. She apologizes anyway, like it's her fault.

"Ack! Quit it."

She exhales roughly through her nose. He chuckles and it makes her body shake. Then she feels his hands settle on her back. It makes sense, it's really the only place he can put them so they're not squashed again. He applies a little pressure until she relaxes once more. Then they're just lying there, his arms around her, her legs trying to figure out if they want to fall to the outside of his or to straddle one toned thigh instead.

He shifts again and the decision is made for her. Her legs fall to either side of his, her toes now resting on the floor of the pod. The position has pulled her pubic bone down against his. She can feel that he's not even remotely hard. She kicks herself for noticing and also for her own reactions, as minor as they have been so far, because if he's not going to have a problem with this, if he can keep it together, so can she. She blows a breath out through pursed lips.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says instantly and realizes that the quick answer gives him more information than a slower one would have.


She can feel the words vibrate in his chest and the slight buzz against her breasts puts her body on alert. It's not a conscious thing, but she shifts her body across his, using the movement and pressure to ease the tingling in her breasts. The move must be many times more obvious than it was deliberate. His hands travel a few inches up and then down to settle at the small of her back. She turns her head just a little to rest her jaw on his shoulder, much more comfortable than holding her neck up so she was looking through the near pitch black at the back of the pod.

Unfortunately, the movement puts her lips a hair's breadth away from his skin. He shudders and she wonders what might have caused it. She wonders if it was the gentle cascade of her breath over his skin. She wonders if maybe he's not as completely unaffected by their proximity as he seems.

Using the walls of the pod, she starts to resituate herself on top of him so maybe she might be more comfortable, and maybe she won't be breathing on him suggestively, and maybe a little because the movement feels good on her body.

"Whatcha doing?"

"I just need," shift, "to move," shift, "a little." She ends up with her head in the hollow of his shoulder and, alarmingly, his groin nestled into the space between her legs. She hadn't planned that part, and she hopes he doesn't think she did.

His hands move over her back, settling again once he changes his hold on her just slightly. He rocks his hips from side to side, doing what, she's not sure – maybe just trying to get comfortable in their new positions. She tries to push herself off him again, to give him more room to move, but he holds her to him with his hands pressed flush against her. When he stops moving she can feel the way he's resituated himself between her legs. He's likely much more comfortable than he'd been a moment ago, but he's also now likely aware of the heat radiating from between her legs.

She's acutely cognizant of the fact that he's no longer completely disinterested in their relative positions. He might not be pressing against her insistently, but he is definitely filling out the front of his pants better than he was before.

The more she thinks about the state of the front of his pants, the more she finds herself fighting her way up past latent arousal to something full-blown. Her body is on fire everywhere it touches his. Which is basically, everywhere, especially the important parts.

She's utterly unaware of the minute rocking of her pelvis until his hands grasp her hips. She is instantly mortified and has no idea what to say. She opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. She should apologize... something. Instead she starts to shift her lower body away from his. His hands slide down to her ass to hold her in place. Warning bells go off in her head. This is wrong.

And then, gently, slowly, testing, he pushes his hips up into her. He is harder now. Maybe not completely, but certainly his interest is piqued. His hands feel large and hot despite the barrier of her BDUs. The warning bells in her head are drowned out by a pleasurable hum.

They start moving together. She swivels her hips as she grinds down on him, and he thrusts gently up into her, hitting her bundle of nerves just right with his now rigid cock. Apparently, all he needed to know was that she was in. And she is. All in. She pushes herself up on her hands so she can get better leverage to increase her pleasure.

She gasps as the new angle catches her clit. His hands squeeze the cheeks of her ass, encouraging her movements. It’s clear, despite their labored breathing, they’re both doing their best to restrain any vocalizations. Like if they don’t make a sound they’re not breaking the regs.

His hands begin caressing her – her ass, her hips, her thighs, her waist. He leaves a trail of fire and goosebumps in his wake.

She wants to kiss him, she could, she knows where his head is, but she's afraid that's going too far. That he might think she thinks this means something it doesn't. But her mouth is hungry, empty, begging for something, anything to occupy it. Her brain trips over words she could use to fill her mouth, ravenous, eager sounds that let him know exactly what she's feeling.

He breaks first, a low groan tearing from his throat. She can feel how the intensity of his movements is increasing. He must be nearing his release.

She gives a vocal sigh, now that the silence is broken. His hands slide up her back and his touch feels different – less insistent, more soothing, softer, and encouraging. She wonders, fleetingly, what it would be like to be loved by this man. Would all his touches lean towards reverent? Her thoughts change the way she moves over him. She becomes languid, searching for pleasure rather than chasing it. Her unhurried movement changes his into something more languorous too.

Soon, they're both simulating the act of penetration, he thrusts up, and she rocks back onto his cock. It's not the best angle for her clit, but the overwhelming arousal of the entire situation is working for her. She thinks, if they keep this up, she could come.

One of his hands slides up into her hair. He draws their faces together but he doesn't kiss her. She can feel his panting breaths wash over her lips. She wishes she had the courage to close the distance between them, but she's still worried about what he might think if she does. His nose grazes hers though, and then again. His head moving back and forth to brush her from different angles. She realizes he's kissing her without actually kissing her. It makes her center clench. He wants what she wants. They're just both too scared to go for it.

She takes a deep, fortifying breath and leans down the rest of the way. Her aim is perfect and their lips fit together seamlessly. For a moment nothing happens and she thinks maybe she calculated the whole situation incorrectly. Until he makes that sound again and then he's angling her head using the hand in her hair and his mouth is open under hers, tongue tracing her top lip.

She opens to him and twists their tongues together. The taste of him explodes across her senses. She likes it. Wonders if she'll ever get enough – in this particular, one-off, colossally bad decision they've made.

The hand not in her hair travels back down to her ass and he changes their angle again, putting pressure back on her clit. She gasps and she can actually feel him smile against her mouth. His movements are still calculated, but now he's calculating what it will take to drive her over the edge.

The wetness between her legs is noticeable to her, she can feel the slip of her skin inside the slick, soaked cotton of her panties. She wonders if he knows how turned on she is, if he suspects her body is begging for more, is prepared for him. Not that they have the space to do anything about it even if they were so inclined. No, getting their pants off in these cramped quarters would be sure to end in injury.

She goes back to swiveling her hips, using the hardness of his cock to stimulate her clit just the way she likes. His tongue is in her mouth, his harsh breathing in her ear and his hardness is between her legs. It's a perfect storm, really.

Pleasure begins to well up inside her. She wonders if he's close, because she is. She both wants to come and doesn't want to come first, still afraid of his reaction to the whole situation. She worries, if she comes first, she'll be telling him that he arouses her more than maybe he should. Though, probably, the ship has pretty much sailed on that one.

What is happening between them might have started out accidental, but it has become deliberate. And then his mouth is ripped from hers, his lips near her ear, his rough voice groaning, "Carter... I'm gonna come."

Relief washes over her. Not that she thought she was in this alone, but knowing he's barely clinging to restraint helps her feel like her reactions are fine.

Her hypersensitive bundle of nerves is taking the brunt of his thrusts and she can feel the pleasure tingling all the way up to her breasts, her nipples hard and aching. She'd touch them if only she weren't holding herself up on her hands. She fantasizes, even in the moment, about his nimble tongue and straight white teeth worrying those hard, aching nipples. The visual of his head at her breast in combination with the feel of him between her legs makes the pleasure within her start to splinter.

"Oh," she moans lowly, like it's a revelation, her pleasure.

"Come on, Carter."

Like she needed the encouragement from him, the satisfaction breaks inside her like an overworked dam. Her muscles tighten and then everything turns loose. She collapses against his chest. His hands smooth over and across her back again, his hips working furiously under hers.

Then he's groaning in her ear. She can feel the pulsing of his cock as he empties himself inside his pants. Then, everything is still, the sound of their harsh breathing fills the small space. She starts to worry about everything and then his mouth is on hers again. He's kissing her gently, his tongue coaxing hers into play. Their kiss is hot and sexy and full of relief. They're spent and the kiss is just a cleansing of their palates. A period at the end of a sentence.

When their bodies have cooled and their heartrates have returned to something approximating normal, his hands slide off her body. There's an awkward moment when they're both unsure of what comes next.

He speaks first. "Okay. So, that happened."

"I'm sorry, sir." She started it, she feels like she owes him the apology.

"Me too."

She stiffens against him.

He chuckles a little. "If I was going to get to be with you during an orgasm, I'd like to have seen it."

She relaxes immediately and giggles a little, relieved that he doesn't seem to regret the interlude.

"And let's just hope it's not your dad who opens the pod."

"What? Why not?"

He takes a deep, audible breath through his nose. "Because it smells like sex in here."

She can feel the flush steal across her face.

"And because it'll be clear to anyone who looks that I came in my pants."

Her laughter fills out until she's shaking on top of him with mirth. She presses a hand to her forehead. "Oh my god. I can't believe we did that."

"Not that I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, but... why did we do that?"

"I... well..." She's not sure how to tell him that all it took was her thinking about him having an erection to turn her on so much she couldn't keep still. Of course, he couldn't restrain himself from having a response to her squirming. She feels the backs of his knuckles brush against her hip.

"It doesn't matter."

She's relieved he's going to let her keep her secret. But then again, she thinks, he might already know. In the next moment there's a click and a then the hiss of hydraulics as the pod door opens. She looks up, over her shoulder, the bright sunlight in her eyes, so she shields them with her hand.

Daniel stands there, hands on his hips. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah," the colonel says.

Sam scrambles off of him, out of the pod and into a standing position next to Daniel. She's careful as she moves not to knee the colonel in any important places. "Fine," she says as she smoothes her hands down the front of her t-shirt and trousers.

Daniel is giving the colonel a curious look that makes Sam nervous. "Okay," he says slowly.

The colonel climbs out of the pod and surreptitiously wipes his hand over the front of his pants, checking, she's sure, for obvious wet spots that might give them away. Or, possibly, explain the look that Daniel is giving them. The nice thing, Sam muses, about the BDU pants is that the camouflage actually does a pretty decent job of camouflaging all sorts of things.

"You guys are the first ones I've found."

"Guess we ought to find Teal'c and Carter's dad."

"Um, yeah."

"Daniel," the colonel says with exasperation, "what's wrong?"

"I didn't realize Sam wore lipstick in the field..."

"I don't usually," she says, wondering why it's coming up right now, "but we weren't supposed to be off-world today, remember?"

"Right. Well, Jack," Daniel says slowly, "I think, before we find Jacob, you might want to find a shade that's better suited to your skin tone."

Sam's eyes fly to the colonel's mouth – truthfully, it's the first time she's looked at him since they'd been freed – and sure enough, her lipstick is smeared on his mouth.

Daniel grins, Sam blushes and the colonel frowns. He coughs and then rolls his eyes. His voice is dismissive with feigned nonchalance when he says, "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that."