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He froze when she moaned under him. God, did he hurt her? He panted against her neck, arousal dissipating. And he’d worked so hard to get there. Had worked so hard to forget the shallow self-loathing threatening to overcome him again as it had the past five days.
It didn’t matter that, in his mind, the woman under him wasn’t Carter but some random faceless woman he’d picked up at a bar. It also didn’t matter that in his fantasy they were somewhere else. Some place where they didn’t have Jaffa passing by every few minutes checking on their progress.
Five days. Excruciatingly long. If they didn’t get out soon, he’d go nuts.
With every additional day, it grew harder for him to do this to her, his 2IC. He couldn’t look at her during the act, and never did right after. That way they could at least keep some last shred of dignity. Not that it made it any easier.
“You okay?” He listened for her reactions.
“Um, yes, sir.” Breathless, and a little strained.
He shifted his hand to touch the short strands of her hair splayed on the mattress. Heat radiated from her, her chest heaving under him. He stopped himself an instant before contact with her skin. Touching was out of line. This was just for survival.
He thrust into her again, her heat surrounding him. Her breath hitched. God. He groaned when the realization dawned on him. Arousal, not pain. Carter moaned in pleasure. He pressed a hot kiss to her neck and thrust into her again, her scent overwhelming him.
Oh crap. He couldn’t fantasize about her. Not when they were doing this.
Her fingers brushed his neck, making him lose focus. He was fucking her, Sam Carter... his 2IC… the woman he’d fantasized about for the past few years.
His hips jerked against hers, and her body arched under him. Another gasp. He held his breath.
“Sorry.” Her voice hitched, her body tensing.
Was she ashamed? Women. After he’d gotten off five times with her during the past few days, she was ashamed of her own enjoyment? If the situation hadn’t been so hopeless, he’d have smirked.
His mind foggy, he thrust into her yet again. She let out a soft whimper. Just like he’d always imagined in his fantasies.
Her fingers curled around his nape, pressing him against her. Clearly a subconscious act. If she’d realized what she was doing, she’d have instantly stopped touching him.
If only this could have happened differently. If only they were somewhere else. His bed. His cabin. A calm evening after they spent the day fishing.
Bad fantasies. He gritted his teeth and stilled. His arousal came too easy now, too strong. Her reciprocation shouldn’t spin him out of control like this. This wasn’t pleasure, this was only for survival.
“It’s okay.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to say that. It wouldn’t help or ease her embarrassment. Maybe, if he made her come at least once, he’d feel less like a bastard afterwards for having to do this to her. “It’s okay.”
He reacted to every signal she gave, no matter how weak, alternating his thrusts, keeping his movements unpredictable. God, if they ever did that in his bed, he’d make her scream for him.
Wait, what? Out. Of. Line.
He suppressed a groan when her fingers raked through his hair. Just don’t look at her.
As long as they didn’t see each other…
She lay still, and the way she tensed told him she was still fighting her reaction. His hand buried in her hair, needing contact, to somehow touch without crossing forbidden lines. In a way he could later justify.
Her breath washed warm against his cheek, down his neck. God, she was so sweet.
Her muscles quivered around him and her breath caught. Momentarily, she thrust up against him, then her sob washed against his temple. Intimate. In a weird, wrong way he shouldn’t enjoy.
He drew out her pleasure until his own orgasm raced through him. A groan built in him and he ground his teeth. He never made a sound when he came. It would have only added to their mutual embarrassment.
This time was different. Images of Carter arching under him flooded his mind. Squirming against his mouth when he tasted her. God, he wanted that. Her scent filled his nose. His skin buzzed with the warmth of her body. A groan escaped him, muffled by her neck.
It was wrong to enjoy this. And even worse to picture her while he did.
His stomach tightened. His heart rate slowed. Damn. He withdrew from inside her and steadied himself on his arms. The usual routine to give her privacy.
She turned her head, her eyes dark-blue in the dim light of the cell. Her face flushed. So beautiful. She bit her lower lip. Embarrassed.
Damn, she shouldn’t have to deal with this. He shouldn’t have to put her through this.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Those beautiful lips that so often confused him with all that technobabble. Her mouth parted. Jack brushed her cheek with his thumb. Maybe if he… Just one taste of her lips…
He froze. Thinking about her like this was wrong. For crying out loud, he shouldn’t even look at her now. Not in this situation.
“It’s okay.” He held her gaze. “It’s just for survival.”
She released a soft breath. He’d never hold her pleasure against her regardless of what she might think. It wouldn’t change anything.
He didn’t wait for her reaction. If he did he might do something stupid. Like comfort her, or kiss her. He didn’t have a right to. He’d crossed a line by seeing her in the intimacy after her climax, and by allowing her to see him. Huge deal breaker. It was a level of closeness they shouldn’t share.
If they didn’t look or talk about it afterwards, they could pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend she didn’t know how much he cared about her. Pretend they were nothing more than superior officer and subordinate.
As long as they kept pretending, this was only for survival.