TOUCHING
For those who asked, this is the sequel to "Touch." Thanks for all the great feedback!
Carter was sucking down blue Jell-O like a vacuum cleaner, relishing every delicious, jiggly bite. She wasn't quite sure what flavor blue was, but right now she didn't care. It was YUMMY!
She glanced at Daniel and Teal'c who were seated across from her. Daniel's tray was completely covered with mashed potatoes and gravy, whereas Teal'c had taken an entire pie and was eating it slowly, and apparently, with great pleasure.
She looked down into her empty bowl, disappointed. She glanced at Beryl, the commisary lady, and knew she'd get the patented "Get the Hell out of My Cafeteria" speech if she asked for more.
Beryl didn't care about rank – she was all about hairnets and getting these stupid soldiers out of her way as soon as possible.
Carter sighed. She was still hungry – something sweet and chocolaty was first and foremost on her mind.
And she knew just the place to get it.
She knocked loudly on the door of O'Neill's quarters.
"GO AWAY!" he bellowed.
"It's me, sir!" she yelled. "I . . . need something from you!"
Silence.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, O'Neill opened the door, just a crack. His eyes darted up and down the hall.
"You alone?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Come in," he said grudgingly. "But close the door IMMEDIATELY."
She grinned. She'd had a sense of what he'd been going through ever since their encounter in the infirmary and knew he was extremely irate.
She slipped into his quarters and closed and locked the door quickly. "Hello, sir," she said, heading directly for his nightstand. He had leaned back against the headboard, pillow across his lap.
"For cryin' out loud, Carter," he moaned. "THAT'S what you're here for?"
"Well, for the moment," she said, and opening the drawer to the nightstand and digging out every package of Reese's Cups she could find. "Bingo!" she said, and dove in.
"You just use me for my candy connection," O'Neill said resentfully.
"Not always!" she mumbled indignantly, mouth full. Then she plopped on her back on the foot of the bed, moaning in candy ecstasy.
He glared at her. "Yay for you," he grumbled.
"What?" she said.
"Don't pretend you don't KNOW," he said, nodding at his lap, still covered by the pillow.
She smirked.
"It's not funny!" he yelled. "You get YOUR jollies, you get YOUR candy, and I'm stuck here with . . . this."
Again, he looked down at his lap.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, opening another Reese's Cup. "What, exactly, is the problem?"
He sighed, utterly humiliated and utterly pissed, because he knew that SHE knew exactly what the problem was.
"I can't get it to . . . go away," he grumbled. "I've tried . . . everything. But I'm still not able to go out in public."
"Mmmmm," she responded, nodding.
"That's all you've got?" he asked.
"No," she said. "Hang on."
He stared at her as she tore through two more packages of Reese's Cups, angry as his problem became even worse as he watched her.
He moaned and shifted slightly. "Carter, come on," he said. "I need . . . HELP!"
"Okay," she said. "Time for Plan B."
O'Neill clapped his hands over his eyes. He hated having his words thrown back at him.
He sighed, eyes still covered. "Fine," he said. "What's Plan B?"
"Take off your pants, sir," Carter ordered.
He removed his hands from his eyes and was startled by what he saw. Carter was naked from the waist down, black t-shirt still on.
He breathed deeply.
"Well?" she said, impatiently.
"This is so romantic," he said sarcastically, but that didn't slow him down any as he tossed the pillow across the room and stripped off his pants.
"Sit back," she said.
He did, and she slid astride him, quickly and expertly.
They both screamed, loudly.
There was a rap at the door. A passing airman had heard the racket and had stopped to check. Hammond would have his ass if something happened to O'Neill.
She stilled, clamping a hand over his mouth as he put his hand over hers.
"Everything okay in there, sir?" the airman called.
They stared at one another. He breathed deeply and nodded, and she removed her hand slowly from his mouth.
"Uh, fine!" O'Neill yelled. "Just fine! Stubbed my toe is all!"
Carter had begun to move, slightly, causing him to wince at the intensity of the feeling.
"You sure, sir?" the airman asked.
"Positive!" O'Neill, called, voice ragged. "Run along now!"
The airman stared at the door, shrugged, and continued down the hallway.
Carter was moving more quickly now, and he stared at her, aroused now to the point of pain.
He quickly flipped her over, sliding his hands under her shirt. She groaned.
He began to move, not taking it slow or easy because he couldn't.
She yelled again. He clamped his hand over her mouth and buried his face in the pillow next to her head to smother his own cries.
God, it hurt, but not really, it was so . . . GOD . . .
Carter was in tears.
"Okay?" he whispered.
Her eyes were wide, and she nodded fervently.
"Good," he said, and lost himself in the rhythm, the pain, the pleasure, the very insanity of this situation.
The first time it happened, and it didn't take long, he almost went into a seizure.
Carter was way ahead of him. Two, three? He'd lost count.
And still he moved, thinking he would never get enough, never, never, before his mind dissolved into a red haze and he couldn't think anymore.
He awoke, startled.
Carter lay next to him, finishing off the rest of the Reese's Cups.
She turned to him and smiled.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"Well, my initial problem has been solved, but I don't think I'll be able to walk for a week."
"YOU? It'll be at least TWO weeks for me," she answered.
"Um, sorry," he mumbled.
"Don't be," she said, kissing him on the nose. "I'm not."
"Really?" he asked.
"Positive," she said and began to ease slowly out of his bed, groaning as she dressed.
"You sure you're gonna be okay?" he asked, concerned he might have hurt her.
She turned and grinned. "Never better, Colonel," she said, and limped slowly out the door.
He collapsed back onto the bed, knowing he should be ashamed, worried, whatever. Instead, he just felt relieved. And, happy, maybe? he thought. And really, really tired. He hoped, kind of, that she'd be back, even though it'd probably kill him. But there were worse ways to die.
He grinned and before he knew it, he was falling into a deep sleep.
Carter walked down the corridor, wincing slightly as muscles that hadn't been used in years – well, in a really long time anyway, complained. She wasn't worried about what had happened. Mitigating circumstances. Alien influence. Heck, she might go back for more.
She grinned to herself.
Daniel was waiting for her outside her quarters, arms crossed, jumpy, a petulant look on his face.
"Daniel?" she said.
"You two have REALLY got to stop this," he hissed. "You're not the only ones involved here, you know. Do you have any IDEA what effect this is having on me?"
She felt ashamed. Well, a LITTLE ashamed, anyway.
"Daniel, I'm sorry, it's just that we . . ." she trailed off as she noticed he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. His eyes were glued to one of the nurses that had been giving him the eye for the past several weeks. She gave him a sly smile as she passed them.
"Anyway, Daniel . . ."
"Um, Sam, could you excuse me?" and without waiting for an answer loped down the hall after the nurse.
Sam watched him go, small smile on her face.
Everyone needs a little touching now and then, she thought.
The End