Work Header

The Dream

Work Text:

Janet chewed her eggs while she watched Sam from across the table.  They were having breakfast at the mess, as they sometimes did, and Janet thought Sam was looking pensive, eating her banana, sipping at her coffee and ignoring her cream cheese bagel.  If she wasn’t mistaken, Janet would say Sam was daydreaming.

“What’s with you today?  You look like you’re miles away,” Janet said, motioning with her head.

Sam’s eyes moved around, focused.  Janet could see her friend getting red, her cheeks brightening as the moment grew long.  Sam looked down and swallowed.

“I had another dream,” Sam whispered around her coffee cup, looked around the mess to make sure no one was close enough to hear her.

“Again?” Janet asked, her eyebrows raised.

Sam became even redder, but Janet noticed a small quirk of her lips.

“I called him ‘Sir,’” she whispered and Janet’s eyes bulged.  Then, Sam tilted her head down toward her plate but lifted her eyes and looked beyond her lashes.  “I think he liked it.”


“I know!”

“Was it at the cabin again?” Janet whispered back, completely interested in her friend’s dream.

Sam looked around again, then back at Janet.  “No,” she shook her head and pursed her lips, deciding what to tell her friend.  “We were off world… and this time, it was really, really detailed.”

Janet sat back in her chair.  “Oh, my!”

Sam smiled.  “Yeah, and it…” she paused again deciding whether or not to share this particular detail.  She looked up to see Janet’s intrigued face staring back at her.  “And oddly enough… it mixed in with the storyline for a book I’ve been reading.”

From across the table, Janet laughed.  Sam laughed too, but the glint in her eyes was from what she only knew.  She wasn’t about to tell Janet that the “book” wasn’t really a published novel, but a “fic” she’d been reading… fan-fiction in fact.  She’d found a website one night, while searching for a few facts about one of her favorite science fiction t.v. shows, and realized hours later that she’d fallen head first into a booming fandom, complete with art, videos, and a mountain of fan-fiction about her favorite characters.  What had started as a lonely night at home and a google search for something more quickly morphed into a weekly routine of sitting at home, having a glass of wine, and reading fanfiction.  She liked it, she wasn’t ashamed to admit, and while some writers were clearly beginners and lacking certain grammar skills, others were talented and creative, bringing her favorite characters to life and continuing their story right where the t.v. show had left off.  Sam mostly enjoyed the ones that centered around the romance and unresolved sexual tension between the two main characters, two people who were kept apart by the rules of the world.  Sam laughed at the irony.  It was good for her, took her mind off the job, and it was entertaining as hell.  She read about their adventures, their dramas, even their lovemaking.   She knew it was these stories that had caused her dreams to start, dreams where the characters weren’t from a t.v. show, but her own life, her own complicated story. 

“Maybe you should write it down,” Janet said, cutting into Sam’s thoughts.


“You know… to remember it fully.  Sometimes these things tend to leave our brains unless we capture them, write them down,” Janet explained, as if she were describing something medical.

“Why would I want to remember it?” Sam answered, trying to appear detached.

Janet just tilted her head and raised one eyebrow.

Sam rolled her eyes.

“Well, I have to go.  Lunch?” Janet asked, standing and gathering her breakfast tray.

Sam cleared her throat and looked down, seeming to notice for the first time that she had not eaten her bagel.  “No… Off-world today, be back by tonight though.”

“Ooo, off-world, huh?” Janet sang and waggled her brows.

“Shut up,” Sam said playfully, smiling and looking around again to make sure certain people had not arrived in the mess.

Janet left and Sam picked up her bagel.  She took a bite and focused, thought about the latest fic she had read, the one her dream had melded with, and started picturing it.  The story was creative, about the main character, the badass female, being captured by a backwards civilization and sold as a sex-slave.  The other character, the illicit love interest, had purchased her to save her life, and the two had had to simulate intercourse behind a curtain so that the “purchase” could be validated.  It was different from anything Sam had ever read, so far from her actual reality, and the illicit and the simulation were thrilling to her, very thrilling.  In fact, she found she couldn’t stop thinking about the little piece of fan-fiction.  The author had even announced that there would be a sequel, where the roles would be reversed, and it was upon this premise that Sam’s mind had taken a dive, deep down into the swallows of what could only be called the gutter, and Sam flushed hot as she remembered her dream.  Her dream, not a fic.  She as the woman, he as the man.  Jack had been the one captured, gagged, given something to make him perpetually aroused, while Sam had to find a way to buy him back and take him home.  She swallowed compulsively with the memory of the vivid dream and felt her cheeks warm again.

She was startled when the mess doors opened loudly and the three men of her team walked in, waving hello and making their way first to the food.  Sam tried to clear her head and compose herself before they arrived at her table to join her.  She had to forget this dream, immediately, before it caused major problems for her while she was off-world.  She had to forget the picture in her mind of him, Jack, her commanding officer, naked and aroused, and sitting on a chair.


The mission had been a breeze.  “Easy as pie,” the Colonel had said, and it had been, in practice and for the team.  For Sam, however, it had been torture.  She couldn’t get the dream out of her head, the images out of her mind, the idea that she had called him “Sir” from her thoughts.  She showered quickly, avoided Janet in the infirmary during her post-mission, and checked on her lab in record time, choosing to save the mission report for the next day.  She had to get out of the mountain as soon as possible, she thought.  She had to get far away from him.

On the drive home, Sam thought about Janet’s suggestion from earlier that morning, about writing her dream down, and came up with a plan.  When Janet had said it, Sam had scoffed at the idea, thought it crazy.  But then she had relived the dream multiple times during the day, had to walk through an unknown planet with underwear that was soaked with the evidence of the effect her dream had on her, found she had to throw the pair completely away as she undressed for her shower at the mountain.  Maybe if she wrote the damn dream down, she wouldn’t feel the need to remember it during the day.  Maybe if she wrote the dream down, she could put words to her inner thoughts, find some sort of release for her mind, a release that no physical climax could.

At home, Sam quickly moved through her routine.  She toed off her shoes and changed into comfortable clothes.  In her kitchen, she made a plate of cheese, nuts, and apple slices.  She pulled a bottle of red wine down from the rack, opened it, and poured the wine into a stemmed glass.  She turned some quiet music on and brought the plate and wine to her side desk in her living room.  As she powered on the computer, Sam thought about the first dream she had had, wondered if she should write that one down first.  She sipped the wine and hummed appreciatively, then took a bite of cheese. 

Opening a new document, Sam began…

“It was a bright and sunny day…” she wrote and smiled.  God, I’m such a sap, she thought to herself.  “The mist was coming off the pond,” she wrote and licked her lips, remembering.  “It was cold,” because people look better when it’s cold, Sam said in her head and thought about her dream, thought about who had started it.  Right, it had been her. 

“Knock, knock, knock,” she wrote.  “Jack opened the cabin door and saw Sam leaning sensually against the side of the cabin,” Sam wondered if she should use alternate names for the characters, maybe she should use the names for the characters in her t.v. show, but then abandoned the thought.  This was for her eyes only and she could encrypt the hell out of the file, so her name could be on it if she wanted it to.  She decided their real names was best, and she’d write it in third person omniscient, since in her dream she’d experienced some of Jack’s thoughts and feelings too, not just her own.

“Hello, Sir,” she continued typing.  “I couldn’t sleep all night.”

Sam giggled and sipped her wine again, enjoying the way the liquid traveled down her throat, feeling comfortable with what she was doing, what she was writing.  She felt totally relaxed, at ease.  The music was calming, the wine and appetizers pleasant, and she could feel her mind opening.  It didn’t feel at all like what she thought it would… juvenile or hokey.  It just felt nice, right.   Looking back over her last sentence, she tried to remember her first dream again, but found that indeed, that dream had mostly left her mind.  Janet was probably right, that unless dreams and ideas are written down, they eventually find their way buried among the recent jumble of information in our minds.

Without hesitation, Sam saved the file and opened a new one, deciding to write down the dream without further delay.  She ate a few nuts, sipped her wine again, then closed her eyes in an effort to concentrate.  She imagined the scene again, from her dream, and with her eyes still closed, began to type:

“With trembling limbs, Sam walked into the dark room where Jack was being held against his will.  She tried to hide her nervousness and uncertainty by projecting a false confidence to the woman who followed her inside.  The team had gated to a backwards planet, and Colonel O’Neill had been immediately captured by the natives.  The planet was ruled by women, strong and fearless, and absolutely ruthless with how they treated their men.  To them, men were property, useful for procreation and pleasure only, and those incapable of this task were relegated to a life of hard labor.”

Sam reread what she had written and scratched at a spot beneath the tip of her nose.  She couldn’t remember why exactly he had been the one captured instead of say, Daniel, but her subconscious made choices for her during her sleep.  It wasn’t exactly novel material, but it was her dream, her writing, and she had read plenty of fanfiction to be confident enough to accept that this was her work and she was proud of it.  She ate a few more bites and drank her wine.

“Jack was imprisoned by the natives and was being sold as property.  As a team, it was decided that Sam, as the only female in the group, purchase Jack at fair price.  Daniel told Sam that as part of the planet’s tradition, Jack was being ‘displayed’ for sale by being given a drug that made him physically…”

Sam breathed deeply and looked around her empty living room.  It was ridiculous that she felt shy writing this.  It was her house, she was alone, an adult, and this was her dream after all.  She swallowed and resumed her typing: “physically aroused.”

There.  There was her first step to writing her steamy dream down.  She smiled proudly and sipped again at her wine.  She closed her eyes and tried again to picture the scene, remember the dream.

“Sam was wearing a heavy velvet robe. The robe was crimson red and sleeveless, and was tied at her waist,” she scrunched her eyes closed and willed more details into her brain.  Oh!  “And she was naked underneath, yet it was clear that Colonel O’Neill did not know this.  Sam walked into the dark room and saw his back.  He was naked on the chair and his hands were tied together behind his back with rope, straight across the back of the chair.  His back muscles were toned and flexed, his breathing labored as he sat and waited to see who had entered the room.”

“Sam nodded to a woman, then, walked slowly around the chair to face him.  As soon as he saw her, their eyes met.  She knew instantly that while he was extremely drugged, he recognized her immediately.



‘Carter, get me the hell out of here,’ he said, desperation in his voice.

Sam could see immediately that he was dazed, drunk, drugged.  She remembered Daniel’s explanation about why they had drugged him and what she must do to purchase him and free him.  She took in his naked body sitting on the chair, his chest rising and falling in the dimly lit room, his chest hair and muscles glinting in the low light, and then she looked down and stared at his penis.  It was erect, red, and seeping cum down to where head met shaft.”

Sam placed a hand over her mouth as she paused and reread her latest chunk of writing.  Her eyes widened when she read the last bit, and she struggled with which word to use for Jack’s… his member? His cock?  No, she didn’t really like those words, didn’t ever use those words in real life, and she was scientist after all, so she settled on the proper word.  Upon further inspection, Sam was happy with the sentence.  She downed the rest of the wine in her glass, and figured the Dutch courage would do her good.

“Jack saw where she was looking and it made his penis jump, quiver and jump again.

‘Carter...’ he said again in a warning tone.

‘Sir... we've worked it out... we're getting you out of here,’ Sam said, moving to look at her commander’s eyes.

Finally, he noticed her state of dress and even in his drugged state, realized what it meant. ‘…’

Sam bit her lip.  She looked at the woman behind Jack.  He followed her gaze and turned his head to notice her too.

‘Sir, do you remember that planet where I was imprisoned as a sex-slave and you had to purchase me out?’

Jack swallowed and in his naked state Sam allowed herself to watch his neck as it moved.  She could see the wheels turning in his brain.  ‘Carter, are u telling me we have to simulate sex again?”

Oh, my, I can’t believe how detailed my dream was, Sam said to herself, remembering that Jack had used those exact words in her dream.  She stood, walked around the room and touched her cheeks, feeling how hot they were, noticing how excited she felt just to be writing this down.  She ate a large bite of cheese and refilled her wine glass, sitting and starting to remember the next bit, the next part of her magical dream.

“Sam looked at the woman, looked at Jack's seeping erection.  ‘No, Sir.  I'm afraid we're going to have to do more than simulate.’

He stared at her. She stared right back.”

Sam took a deep, controlled breath.  She remembered giving O’Neill a long and complicated explanation.  Even in her dreams, it seemed she was capable of technobabble.  Sam turned in her chair and searched her living room.  She found a picture on one of her shelves, a team picture, and tried to focus on Jack’s facial expressions, picturing him at this moment during the dream.  She swiveled back around and her fingers met the keyboard yet again:

“Sam had to explain to Jack in detail why his release after being purchased required that they engage in a semi-public sexual encounter.

’Sir, it has something to do with society being matriarchal and the importance of male virility, sperm quality, and female satisfaction,’ Sam said to him, hesitating on the last words.”

Sam had to laugh at her sentence.  I did tell Janet the dream was detailed, and I wasn’t lying.  She wondered what her fandom would think of a story like this, very little plot and a mostly awkward sexual situation.  They’d probably love it, she thought to herself.  She resumed her typing:

“’Ah, and let me guess...’ Jack spoke sarcastically.  ‘Someone has to watch?’ Jack looked back at the woman still standing near the door.

‘Yes, Sir.  Someone always has to watch…’ Sam said, adding her frustration in her tone of voice.

The woman at the door grunted in a pointed sort of way, and Sam noticed her impatience at all the conversation.  Without hesitation, Sam knelt on the floor, to his left.  Jack was a bit startled by what she was doing, but her intention was to get closer to his ear.  She noticed his anxiety, and approached his ear calmly.

‘Sir,’ she whispered, ‘the effect of this drug will pass through your system the more you...’ Sam blushed, and her proximity to him caused her breath to come in quick spurts.  ‘Um, Sir, have you, uh…’

‘Spit it out, Carter,’ he barked at her, ‘besides the obvious, I feel like I’ve had a whole bottle of scotch too.’

Sam sighed and looked down at the floor.  ‘Sir, you'll continue to be in a state of arousal until you've had several... ejaculations.’

‘Fuck,’ he said next to her, and she turned her head to look at his face.

‘Sir, have you…’ she trailed off and hoped he understood what she was asking.

He sighed and ground his teeth together.  ‘Twice,’ he answered finally, and Sam was so relieved that she exhaled a large breath.  ‘A woman always comes and cleans me up,’ he added, quietly.

‘That's good,’ she said, then added, ‘I’m sorry this is happening to you, Sir.’  She paused a moment and then turned her head to stare back at him.  His pre-cum had begun to drip down his thigh and her eyes widened.

‘Damn it, Carter!  If you don't stop staring, I'm going to come again, and...’

‘Do it, Sir,’ she interrupted him.  ‘The more you… the more you come, the faster they'll release you to me.’

Jack bit down hard and closed his eyes.  Sam could see his struggle, but in the end, he didn’t come though his penis pulsed and semen pooled at the tip.  She concluded immediately that since he already climaxed twice without any physical stimulation, that it would only become harder for him now, harder to reach a point of release.  Sam caught movement at the door, the woman shifting on her feet, and she remembered her task, decided that the quicker she did this, the faster she would get him out.

She stood up, slowly, and Jack followed her body’s every move with such precision that Sam was convinced her decision was the right one.  Her eyes locked with his as she undid her belt, allowed her robe to open slowly, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin.  She paused for a moment as he watched her, his eyes huge, but then all pretense ended when she shrugged the garment off, leaving herself completely naked, completely bare in front of him.

 It became obvious by Sam’s shock that she hadn’t expect it to happen so fast.  As the robe fell, Jack’s eyes traveled over her naked body, and he stared for only a few seconds, his eyes moving from her perfectly rounded breasts, her pointy nipples, and the spot between her thighs with dark curly hair and perfect, soft and pale skin.  Sam was dumbfounded when she watched his penis throb violently and semen shoot out from him, his orgasm strong and powerful, his voice rough as he growled lowly.

She looked at him all over and watched his powerful reaction to her naked body.  She became oddly proud and scared at the same time.  She didn't know what kind of drug could make any man react that quickly to subsequent sexual encounters, and the suddenness made her frightened for his health, made her aware of how abused he was being, of how quickly she needed to get him out of this situation.

As soon as he stilled, she kneeled, and immediately snatched her discarded robe from the floor and began to clean him up.  As soon as Jack felt what she was doing, he tried to put a hand to her movements and stop her, but his hands were still tied behind his back.

‘Sam,’ he said, and Sam was shocked by his voice, the sudden return of a tone that showed her his coherence was returning, the fact that he used her given name.  They had told her it would be the case, that the more emissions he had of his seed, the more he would be restored to wholeness of body and mind.  She had to get him completely back.

‘I’m so sorry, Sir,’ she whispered, trying to apologize for everything at once, wiping his thighs and trying to wipe the wounds inside the man too.

‘This isn’t your fault,’ he spoke, and to Sam’s shock she watched as he slowly began to harden again.  She was suddenly acutely aware that she was still completely naked, that they were now both completely naked.  ‘I think it’s safe to say our working relationship will be toast after this.’

Her eyes snapped up to his and she tilted her head.  ‘There’s already been a change…’ she tried to put what she felt into words.  ‘After we had to simulate… things have been… hard.’

‘I know,’ he said, and watched him bite his lip.  He was fully hard again and Sam wanted more than ever to finish and get him as far away from this planet as she could.

‘We’ll figure it out, Sir, when we get back.  For now, there’s more we have to do to finish the purchase.’

‘I know, Carter.  You said we have to have sex.’

Sam blinked. She knew he was still drugged but the bluntness of his statement and the nakedness of them both had her tingling from head to foot.  She coughed, cleared her throat.

‘I have no other way of freeing you, Sir,’ she whispered.

‘Carter, I’m not exactly complaining, here,’ he whispered back, ‘and before the drugs leave me and I’m unable to say this, I’d like to tell you that you are absolutely and completely beautiful.’

Sam met his eyes, stunned.  He looked her in the eyes and Sam saw the real man, the truth behind his eyes.  She broke the eye contact, it was becoming too much and she had to get back to the task at hand.

‘Sir,’ Sam waited for him to look her in the eyes again. ‘Part of the show is that I have to taste your… sperm,’ Sam didn’t wait for him to process what this meant, didn’t wait for him to understand exactly what her tasting might look like.  She approached his ear again, ready to whisper what she must do in his ear.  Her naked breast grazed his arm and Jack shuddered, blowing out hot air close enough that her hair moved and she had to look down at her breast to assure herself the touch was her skin against his.

She swallowed.  ‘Permission to place my mouth around you, Sir.’”

Sam stopped typing.

She reread her paragraphs and stared at the screen, her eyes wide.  Blinking, she moved her head and focused on the wine, took it in her hand and swallowed a large drink.  The alcohol was doing its work, she already felt lighter, braver to write what she wanted to, and as she thought over her words she was surprised at her own ability to dream this way, to feel this way, to know that if her real Jack did see her naked, that he would have the same reaction to her.

To say that their relationship was difficult was an understatement.  In her reality, they hadn’t simulated sex, hadn’t even talked about their situation besides a few episodes of feeling feelings.  Sure, they’d had to confess their love for one another in a room filled with Tok’ra, but they hadn’t kissed, hadn’t seen each other naked, hadn’t had to deal with tasting each other and then moving on.  She tried to imagine what their conversation would actually be like if they had, tried to imagine how truly complicated their working relationship would be.  She sighed.  Why did it matter, it was easier to wish, to dream, to live this fantasy and enjoy it rather than continue to live a life of angst and repressed sexual feelings.

She stood, walked around the room, paced back and forth near her kitchen island.  She thought back to the dream, struggled with the sexual implications of consent.  It was strange that in her dream all of this just happened, but that here, in her living room, as she thought of it and wrote it down, she wondered how right it was for her to do this, to her man, even if she was saving his life, saving him from actually becoming someone else’s sex-slave.  My mind is an interesting place, Sam concluded, and without another thought, returned to her chair, resumed her position on the keyboard.

“’Granted,’ Jack said hoarsely.

Her mouth moved down and she watched him, licked her lips.  He watched her every move.  She was careful not to touch him, still unsure about the whole thing.  Slowly, she used her right hand to gently hold his erection.  The touch had him immediately bucking off the chair, and it took everything in Sam to stay with him and hold her position.  She knew she couldn’t back down, she knew she didn’t want to.  She took the tip of her tongue and ran it from the dripping head, until his slit, licking him clean.  A sound came out of his mouth that she couldn’t quite decipher.  She could tell it wouldn’t take much, that Jack was still extremely aroused, so she opened her mouth and took him in deeply.  Her assessment was correct because she felt him thrust once and immediately come.  She swallowed, swallowed again.  Her mouth softened around him and she slowly lifted her mouth away from him, and at the end, she noticed his penis didn’t soften.  In a split decision, she kissed the point between his shaft and balls and sat up, looked at him.  Jack’s eyes were downcast, his gaze hidden from hers, and his chest and face were red from all of the blood pumping overtime through his body.  The creek of the floor by the door reminder her that they weren’t alone.

‘Very nice semen,’ she said loudly to the woman at the door.  ‘Perfect pH and good viscosity too. The taste was pleasant and the amount plentiful. The length is perfect for insemination and the girth looks… pleasurable.’

The woman at the door nodded, satisfied, and gestured for Sam to continue.

‘You shouldn't let him rest too long, see how virile he can be this quickly,’ the woman said.  ‘This one won’t disappoint you!’

Sam rolled her eyes.  ‘Oh, I'd rather him rest at least a bit,’ Sam called out and tried to think of the best way to explain to Jack what the next part of the purchase would be.

Jack's eyes were still closed and his breathing was finally returning to normal when he heard Sam tell the woman that she thought his girth would be pleasurable. ‘Taste, quality, girth... What else do you have to test, Carter?’ he asked seriously.

Sam swallowed and watched his body again, amazed that he was again erect, wondered what on earth could be causing it.

‘Sir,’ she faltered, looking at him then down at his neck.  Jack could see she was struggling to say whatever it was she had to do.  ‘I have to… I have to climax, also. I have to show that you were... pleasurable.’

For a moment, Sam thought that Jack had actually stopped breathing.  Then she watched him take a huge breath of air.

‘Carter, are we actually doing this?’

Sam’s eyes widened.  'Sir, we couldn’t come up with any other way.'  She looked at the woman at the door, who was impatiently tapping her foot.  ‘I told the guys that I would pretend, but I'm not sure how closely that woman will be watching… which is why I don’t know that simulating will work.’

‘Simulating or not, I can get you—’

The woman at the door yelled suddenly, startling them both.  She told Sam to get on with it, that his reaction would start to slow down now, and that Sam better get a move on if she wanted to get off.  Sam’s mouth went slack, a bit shocked by the woman's language, but she looked at Jack and was glad to see that he was hard and ready.  He surprised her when he asked, ‘where do we do this, Carter?’

Sam looked at the woman at the door, and ignoring every regulation ingrained in her head, stood and sat on his thighs, straddling him.  Jack immediately looked down and saw her opened legs, saw her vulva and her parted labia, revealing deep pink and swollen flesh.  If possible, he became harder still.  His gaze moved up and landed on her pale stomach and he was suddenly entranced by her belly button, her curves, her sex.

‘It's a matriarchal society, Sir. We have to do it here, on this chair...’ She came closer, this time ignoring how her breasts grazed his skin and spoke into his ear, ‘the woman has to be on top.  I have to ride you, Sir, but I can pretend to do that… I think.’ Her tone was conspiratorial and controlled.

She heard him breathe, in a labored sort of way, and she moved one of her hands behind his neck, supporting his head.  She moved her thighs up nearer to him, and she made a sound of pleasure into the room, a show for the woman at the door.

The sound became more than a show, because it made Jack's penis jump and touch the outside of Sam's parted labia.  She immediately tensed, all pretense lost, and closed her eyes.

‘Shit,’ she whispered.

She moved her body again, pretending to move against him, but the movement itself made her move up and across his erection.  The touch sent an enormous rush of fluid out of Sam and caused Jack to thrust up towards her.  Feeling it all, Sam scooted back a bit against his thigh, trying to protect herself from feeling too much.  She looked at him and met his eyes.  There was no way they were going to do this without touching, and they struggled with the pretending, until finally their eyes met again, and in silent communication, Sam received the permission she needed, the go ahead for the mission at hand.  She swallowed and brought her body up and toward his.  She kissed his neck, licking him mostly as a show for the woman, and when their bodies slid against one another, Sam jerked and sighed into his neck, her fingers digging into his skin where she held onto him.  As soon as she felt his hard body against her slick parts, she knew she would have no trouble showing the woman just how pleasurable this man could be.

In joint understanding, they continued to move together for about a minute, until they both felt the woman by the door move.  Sam sensed her watching, and she knew the charade was over.  Deftly, she thrust hard against his body and hid them from the woman’s view.  She pretended to kiss him under his ear and whispered instead, ‘Sir.’

‘I know, Carter,’ he answered, his voice five different levels of rough.  ‘Don’t pretend.’

She kissed his neck, for real, and he turned his head in an effort to force her to look at him.  They stared at each other, and Sam noticed for the first time how she panted nearly as much as he did, both breathless with arousal and anticipation.  Still locked with his eyes, she shifted back, rose minutely from his thighs, and without needing guidance fell gently on him, becoming full of him and of his stare all in one slide.  His breath hitched and his eyes fell closed, and Sam understood the feeling exactly.  She was overcome by how good this felt, how perfect it was even in the imperfect situation.  She rose slowly from him, rocking against him and then coming back down, and she repeated the motion a few more times until the woman by the door moved quickly, startling Sam and causing her to pause in her movements.  Without warning, the woman took a knife to Jack’s hand restraint.

‘Maybe this way he can please you,’ the woman said, her voice a bit disdainful, and Sam imagined the woman had sensed their awkwardness all the way from the door.

To Sam’s surprise, Jack needed no further encouragement.  He quickly took his hand and curled it around Sam’s neck, pulling her mouth into his for a searing, passionate kiss.  The entire time, Sam hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t dared, and she was surprised by his forcefulness, his passion, his talent.  She was aroused, very aroused, but she knew he was drugged, and she could feel in his actions that he was about to snap.  He ripped his mouth from hers long enough to look at her, in an apologetic way, and then Sam’s left breast ended up in his mouth and the only thing left for Sam to do was rock against him again.

Jack’s other hand grabbed at her foot, helping to furnish her with some kind of step for her to push off of as she thrusts again and again, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting filling the quiet room.   

‘Don't pretend,’ he repeated hoarsely into her ear.

At the moment, Sam didn’t see the point in pretending anymore; she couldn’t even if she wanted to.  She knew she was going to climax and she knew the moment wasn’t far off.  ‘I won’t,’ she grunted back.

Jack took his free hand and placed it at her hip, started pulling Sam’s body impossibly closer to his, encouraging her to grind freely against him.  She did, and at the same time allowed herself to moan.  The sound caused Jack to buck up and into her, and he moved his hand around to her front, intending to help her along.  She didn’t need his help.

Suddenly, she came down hard against him and held herself there, her nails dug into his back and with the softest voice possible, she cried out, ‘Sir!’”

Sam stared at the computer screen wide-eyed.  “I can’t believe this is when I woke up,” she said to herself, amazed that she had remembered the details and speech of each person during the dream with precision.  “I can’t believe I called him Sir.”  She looked down, realized the state she was in, and took a shuddering breath.  She squeezed her legs together and moved both hands to either side of the keyboard, closing her eyes.  “I called him Sir,” she said again to the empty room.

The dream had ended, but she wanted to keep imagining it, keep picturing him, his moment, his reaction to her.  She opened her eyes and stared at the phone on the desk, as if willing the possibility of being able to call him plausible.   “It was just a dream… the regulations still exist, Sam.”  Her reality was where she had to live in.

She emptied her wine glass and tapped her fingers on the keyboard, looking at her writing.  She felt free…for writing it down.  It was her own way of living it until the moment she actually could make it real.  She wanted him, wanted to tell him how she felt, wanted to show him exactly the kinds of dreams she’d been having about him.  She sighed and felt the twinge of desire still coursing through her body, and knowing that the man in question probably desired her just as much made her ache.  She sat up, saved her file, encrypted it, and powered her computer off.  She turned her lamp off and clicked off the music, making her way to her bedroom.  She’d indulge herself tonight, and she’d think of him.  She didn’t know if the dreams made her situation more bearable or just more excruciating, but for now, she was only too eager to climb into her bed and call it an early night.  As she turned off her bedside light, Sam wondered what Jack would call her, what he would call out, in that moment. 

Smiling, she closed her eyes.