She knew she was dreaming because first of all, her father had popped his head in the room, noted her...condition, and said, "Look, I want the lettuce to be blue, is that too much to ask?" He hadn't even bothered to hide his annoyance at finding her otherwise engaged, snapping, "And tell Jack not to be so tongue tied, will you? It's not like I'm going to bite for gods sake."
Which was pretty funny, really. She had looked down then, laughing.
She knew she was dreaming because she been riding his face on the floor of her bathroom when her father had stuck his head in and made bizarre demands about lettuce. She hadn't even stopped what she was doing.
She knew she was dreaming because she wasn't this...unkempt...when they went to bed. Well - and there was the start of it, right there. They'd not had a chance to really do it anywhere but the bedroom. One hurried, very-dangerous little session on the front seat of his truck outside the SGC, but she was nervous through the whole thing and neither of them had come. They'd just quietly collected lust and went back to work for the rest of the day and then come home to her house and fucked like mad.
She knew she was dreaming because her father was obviously hearing her thoughts and waiting for her answer, oblivious of the fact that those thoughts involved Jack O'Neill's hands down her pants, massaging her clit while he sucked on her tongue.
"Um, okay dad, sure," she said, and then let go of decorum and laughed and laughed because where else can one laugh but in a dream like that? She said, proud of her dream self, "I don't think he's tongue tied dad. Okay, maybe he is at the moment...."
"Very funny, Samantha. Your mother would be proud of you, by the way," Jacob had said, nodding his head at her position before he disappeared. A little disconcerting, but hey, she was dreaming and so she let it go and looked down again and said -
"Jack, lick a little harder baby. Mmm, yeah."
They were both naked and mostly wet. It had started in a shower; she had been behind him, soaping his erection until he came, his knees almost buckling, groaning her name. Then, after carefully washing his sperm down the drain, he'd pulled her out and onto the bath mat, lying down on his back and urging her on top of him. She sat across his belly for a moment, confused, until she remembered he'd come and, dream or not, there'd be no dick for her anytime soon.
Then he'd stuck his tongue out and it had been a foot long.
Well, no use not taking advantage of that. Eagerly she'd moved up to his chin. He was smiling and telling her how much he loved the horse she'd rode in on. The scene changed instantly and they were both on the back of a white horse, bare back, naked, the bump of the horses withers rubbing hot and sweaty against her clit. Jack was behind her and whispering her name and how much blue lettuce cost. She wanted to come but couldn't because of the constant nattering about produce. He said, "I know, I'm sorry," and they were back on the bathroom floor, she still undulating as though on the horse, and when she looked down his tongue was extended and silvered with wetness, hers and his. She pulled the hood of her clit back and stroked herself across him, moving back and forth and then in small circles, coming closer and closer to orgasm. He pushed two fingers inside her and the spike of pleasure was just what she needed....
Sam woke up as the orgasm ripped through her, instinctively clutching her legs together, muscles bunching as pleasure moved all along her body. She woke moaning, her hands on her breasts, pushing them up and inwards. She woke up sucking in her stomach and thrusting herself upwards, rising off the bed, fleeing out of the dream.
"Mmffmmmff," came a sound, and she looked down to see Jack's silvered top peeping up at her through the sheets and the hair on her mons. When he raised his face she saw it was wet from nose tip to chin.
"Oh my god," she exclaimed, and gingerly let her legs fall open again, drawing breath as the waves receded and receded until there was only memory left.
He scampered up beside her, his erection bobbing against his belly, and grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head.
"I can't believe you slept through that," he said.
She swallowed and willed herself not to blush. "It's an...unusual skill I have."
"That was hot, Sam. I mean," he ground his hip into hers, and she responded involuntarily, still feeling the last, thin pulses of orgasm ebb away, "really hot. God you taste good in the morning."
Blushing seemed unavoidable.
"I like this unusual skill," he said gently. He kissed her already open mouth and she let the taste of her and him - last night's fun before they fell asleep - linger on her tongue for a moment. She smiled, hoping it didn't look too tired.
"Yes I do taste good, don't I," she said, smiling at him cheekily. The cheeky grin was another skill she was developing from spending so much time with him. Near him.
"Yes you do," he replied and brought up a hand to her nipple, lifting it gently, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. Another sharp intake of breath.
"Give me a minute, Jack," she moaned.
"I love hearing you come, Samantha," he whispered, pushing one knee out so that he could slide his thigh closer to her. He kept himself steadied like that, with her one leg between his, and guided his erection to the mouth of her vagina.
"Jack," she warned, but her hips told him she was just talking, because they rose up and tickled the head of penis. The hot wetness of her, slick and lubed and ready, so recently replete, made him unsteady and this time he did no fancy slow insertion or foreplay, the way he'd done last night, but smoothly and in one motion sheathed himself inside her.
"I want to hear you come again Sam," he said and started immediately into a deep thrusting, even but none too gentle. "So sexy, when you're asleep," he murmured, his lips at her ear as he plunged in and out, "so open and wanting it. I love it when you fuck my mouth," he said, lapsing into a different kind of dialogue as he felt her muscles clench him, an intimation of response that her mouth couldn't, maybe wouldn't, make.
"Let go baby - fuck I want you to come so hard you lift me off the bed," he said, each word timed with a thrust, in and out, word and word. She was gasping now, caught on the upward swing of another orgasm. His lips left her ear and, still holding her wrists, he bent his neck to suckle at a nipple, pulling hard, grazing his teeth over it. Still he kept the rhythm of his hips even, pushing but not too hard, fast, but not fast enough to lose control of himself. The slick, frictionless fingers of her vagina gripped him strongly and it took all his strength not to fall into the pinpoint of pleasure his prick was turning into.
"Don't, Jack," she whimpered, "Oh don't. Don't."
"Come," he commanded, relinquishing her taut nipple. His rhythm stayed the same as he waited for her to let go the way she had so easily in her sleep. "Pretend you're asleep again. Tell me to fuck you."
For a moment under him she struggled, and he felt the inward tension because her legs tightened up and it wasn't in pleasure, it was in thought. He brought his lips back down to her ear so she wouldn't have to look at him and said, "close your eyes baby. Close your eyes and let your hips go again. I'm fucking you just the way you like," he groaned, momentarily concentrating again so he could resume the rhythm she liked the best, smooth and constant and even. "I'm going to do this all morning," he warned with a hint of laughter.
She gasped, half laughing too, and then relinquished whatever it was she was struggling with. Her thighs became less rigid and she started to widen them a bit.
"Tell me," he said again.
"Don't," she started, and then arching upwards, "don't stop. Don't stop Jack. Fuck me. Don't stop. Don't stop."
And he didn't, until they both crashed on the other side of pleasure, coming to rest slowly in a tangled mess of fluid and limbs and lips.
"I love hearing you come," he said again, kissing her lightly where a sheen of sweat still lay on her throat.