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Sometimes Wrong Is Right

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Summary: On a mission to a planet, SG-1 is divided; a story ensues.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories(Current Donor)SithspitFR15619,5791253,7086 Jun 1219 Oct 12No

NOTE: This chapter is rated FR18

Coming To A Head...So To Speak

Disclaimer in first chapter. Cross-over maybe appearing; if not, probably next chapter. Also, note the rating goes up in this chapter for naughty thoughts, some intimate personal moments, and outright randiness of the “there’s going to be sex” kind…if reading about how sexually frustrated people think things through or deal with their frustrations when alone, or consenting adults having sex bothers you, don’t read.

Rating = FR18

“Sentry Moon”, Day Forty

A week.

One. Week.

Seven days…one hundred and sixty-eight hours.

That’s all that had passed since their discovery of the unexpected trip from P4X-169 to the moon Jack had begun persistently calling the “Sentry Moon”…as well as their discovery of the actual “entrance” to the Ancient structure they now called home, the purpose of said facility, and some of the previously locked-down areas, now open to them due to the presence of a bit of DNA in Jack.

Jack and Sam exited their new home away from home and hunted, bringing down a small herbivore which they dubbed a “cow” after discovering it had six stomachs and chewed cud. The meat tasted tangy but had an excellent flavor when roasted over an open flame, much to Jack’s delight. He bemoaned the lack of a cold Heineken or a baked potato to go along with it, but consoled himself by having a second steak. He figured that over time he’d get tired of them if that’s all they had, but until then…carnivorous heaven.

For her part, Sam reasoned that the addition of the fresh meat would keep their protein levels up, inhibiting weight loss from their daily PT, but she knew that was secondary to Jack’s pure enjoyment of having hot, cooked food. She grinned when she watched him take his first bite of the steak, chuckling at the look of pleasure on his face. He wasn’t pleased about having to eat it well done, though; Sam insisted, however, since they weren’t sure what bacteria might lurk in undercooked meat on an alien world. Chances are, having been here for a month and a half already without significant illness or dying, they were largely safe, but…you never knew. Sam did know that over this past week she caught Jack looking at her oddly more than once, even once checking out her form as she bent over to pick up an object on the floor, the look on his face as she watched him in the reflective surface of the wall monitor unreadable.

It took all of her willpower to not react and reveal her growing enjoyment in the knowledge he appreciated her as a female. This puzzled her because she figured she shouldn’t be feeling that way at all. The military taboo remained too strongly ingrained; besides, it had never been an issue before….so why now? Additionally, they both knew that in two short weeks the Prometheus should be in orbit looking for them. To jeopardize their careers at this point was just too daunting an outcome for either to break that “Don’t Touch” mindset.

Or so she kept telling herself.



“Sentry Moon”, Day Forty-three, Sam

Ok…he’s avoiding me.

Sam sat in the common area of the house, cleaning her P90 with her mind on auto-pilot, her hands deftly stripping and cleaning the weapon, her mind only tenuously involved with the task. Instead, her mind kept going through loops and hoops and circles as she thought intently about all that happened earlier that morning.

Since the morning Jack surreptitiously checked her out as she bent over, she’d begun to pay closer attention and realized he did it far more often than she realized…and becoming more distant in dealing with her, too.

Then, during morning PT, he muttered something and left the room before they even finished. Sam paid no mind; she assumed he went to the bathroom. After several minutes went by with no return, she realized he went in the wrong direction for the bathroom, so she grabbed her towel and went looking for him. It occurred to her that he looked…odd. Pained, perhaps? Mildly upset? Try as she might, she couldn’t place the look on his face.

Thus it was she found the closed door to his room. Puzzled, she raised her hand to knock, but then changed her mind. Their living conditions recently made personal privacy somewhat of a rare commodity; perhaps Jack just wanted some time alone.

Or maybe he just wanted time away from her. Sam noticed they had both been testy around each other lately, and it seemed to be getting a bit worse. The thought dismayed her; she didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship in any capacity, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d done at PT to bother him. Of course, lately she also felt a bit more than testy around him; being around him in such close proximity and in such a relaxed environment was starting to take a toll on her willpower. Finding time alone for some “personal time” was becoming more of an issue, especially considering her attraction, though suppressed, to Jack; getting that time alone away from the one person making her want that time made it awkward.

Suspicion dawned and she pondered the closed door a few seconds more. Sighing, she shrugged and went back to the workout area; it wasn’t immediately any of her concern and there wasn’t anything she could do about it just then. She did make a mental note to ask him about it some other time, especially if his mood continued to be down or it darkened again later.

Sometime later, Jack returned and Sam was happy he looked much more relaxed and less on edge.

“Feeling better Jack?”

Jack startled and much to her surprise, he looked…guilty? Ah ha…

“Yes! Feeling good! Uh…why do you ask?”

“Well,” she replied, “You disappeared and looked like something was bothering you. I went looking for you and saw the door to your room was closed, so I figured you just needed some time alone to think over something. Since you look more relaxed now, I thought I’d ask.” She smiled sweetly, the picture of innocence.

Jack’s guilty look changed to one of relief as he drawled an answer. “Yeeeeah. I uh, just had to think about…something. I’m good now. Thanks for asking.”

His face changed as he clapped his hands together and asked, “So, hey, feel like going for a run? We’ve been in here for a few days; some fresh air might do us some good.”

“Sure! Give me a few minutes to get into some pants and boots and I’ll be right back.”

Sam headed to her room. Once there, she tossed her towel aside and closed her door.

She smirked as she sat on the edge of her bed. Maybe I have time to work off some of my own edge.

Sam slid her hand down her chest, cupping a full breast as she did, lightly pinching her nipple a bit before sliding it down further. Biting her lip, her fingers slid down her belly and over her cloth-covered mound, stroking herself. Sam moved her hand up and into the waistband, sliding her fingers down and cupping herself and squeezing, her fingers making a rippling motion and…

“Sam, are you coming?”

She jumped where she sat, startled by Jack’s shout from outside.

I was trying to, thanks very much! A growl escaped her lips as she stopped her ministrations. She dressed quickly, lacing her boots and heading out the door, still grumbling under her breath. It was hours later after their run that she finally found the time alone to work off her frustration; by that time she felt well and truly worn out from the run, and she wasn’t as tense and needy as before.

Now, hours later and cleaning her weapon, she reflected on it all and tried to piece together the morning’s events, and how they all fit together: The agitation, the increasing and worsening sexual tension between them, the increasing avoidance…

She knew he was attracted to her; she knew she was attracted to him.

I’ll be fine. We will be fine. We just need to hold out until the Prometheus arrives and we’ll…be…

Her hands stilled in their motions, the P90 forgotten in her hands as Jack crossed the doorway as he passed by in the hall, his boxers clinging to his sweaty form, chest bare except for his dog-tags, a towel around his neck as he headed to the hot tub area.

Sam’s shoulders slumped as her chin dropped to her chest. I am so screwed.



“Sentry Moon”, Day Forty-three, Jack

Jack wasn’t a heavy drinker.

Usually, he’d have some beers with his team when barbecuing, or sometimes one or two when out at dinner or even at home with dinner, but rarely hard liquor, and when he did imbibe the hard stuff he drank very moderately.

Jesus Christ I wish I had some whiskey.

Following their run, Jack sweated quite profusely. He begged off the last lap of his and Sam’s run, blaming pain in his knees, and Sam appeared to take his excuse without question, which suited him just fine.

The simple fact was that he had a dilemma. Jack was a professional; he attended the Academy and then joined as an officer after graduating with honors in ’74. His career was filled with medals, commendations, and recognition for many things, most of which the public at large would never know due to the classified nature of his work, both past and present. Jack didn’t advertise the fact, but he also excelled academically at the Academy, earning recognition for 'Academic Excellence Achieved in Military Sciences and Engineering'. He kept his relationships professional as a result, especially those directly involved with the SGC, and particularly with one certain person on his team.

Samantha Carter. Roughly eighteen years his junior, it was easy keeping things distant and at arm’s-length for several years…and then she somehow got under his skin.

It’s hard not to develop some feelings for a person when you worked so closely with them, especially in such dangerous situations as they usually found themselves in on their missions. Daniel and Teal’c were two of the best friends he’d ever had; only Kawalsky could compare. The problem lay in the fact Carter wasn’t just “one of the guys”. He did find her attractive, no doubt, and it wasn’t just her appearance. Carter was wicked smart; her intelligence—in spite of his frequent moaning reactions to her technobabble—was actually a large part of her appeal. He held to his thinking that she was a junior officer directly under his command and as such was off-limits for any thinking or feelings of a personal and romantic nature.

Thus his current dilemma.

Lately, in spite of his best efforts, he found he could not stop thinking about her. At first, he chalked it up to her constant presence with no other distraction. Then he chalked it up to being stranded…with her. Then he figured it was all of that, and seeing her in wet workout clothes…and then PT…and then the hot tub near-incident…and then…

Finally, he simply admitted he was probably in love with her, and that admission actually helped him to squash the feelings, as their military positions brooked no wiggle room for relationships; faced with an insurmountable brass wall, the line was clearly set. Easy to see, easy to follow.

Or so he thought.

In spite of all of that, and much to his chagrin, something else began to occur that at once mortified him and amazed him: He was getting aroused around her. A lot.

It happens, he reasoned. Even being over fifty like me it happens. I’m a guy…guys get erections. But for cryin’ out loud, this is ridiculous. His amazement stemmed from having one of the darned things upwards of approximately every damned time Carter was in the same room, and often even when she was not and his thoughts drifted to her. The mortification, though, was obvious. This was Carter! The one woman he could NOT be having such thoughts and feelings about, and his body not only appeared to be in its second “teenage-hood”, but was getting revved up for the one woman he couldn’t have; no matter how much he wanted her he ruthlessly suppressed his feelings. There was simply no other option.

Due to the obvious nature of this particular and troubling issue, he began trying to avoid her unless necessary, such as their runs. Unfortunately, PT time such as that morning often resulted in one of those obvious problems, prompting him to make an excuse and go off to “remedy” the situation…take the bull by the horn, so to speak.

Now, even their runs were causing him trouble…if he didn’t stay in front of her while running, he could see her backside and hips moving, or her chest bouncing, sweat trickling down her neck... Hell, all she had to do was stand there and breathe.

Scowling, he entered his room, closing and locking the door behind him. He stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and pants—which the run was only partially responsible for—and tossed them to the side as he winced, his groin throbbing insistently. Their last lap was awkward, to say the least; that alarmingly frequent erection issue raised its ugly head yet again, prompting him to beg off.

Closing his eyes, he dropped his boxers and grabbed himself. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of thoughts of Sam, doing his best to make his actions as clinical and practical as possible, but it wasn’t working. His mind kept drifting, no matter what he did, and before he realized it, the memory of Sam in the hot tub came to mind and…Wow, and that’s that.

He worked at getting his breathing under control, wiping his hands and finally softening member clean as he thought, more than a little irritated, ”I can’t keep this up.”

Then, realizing what he just thought, he began to methodically bang his head on the door frame.



“Sentry Moon”, Day Forty-six

His: Captain’s Log: Well, it would be if I were a Captain, but since I’m a Colonel…anyway. I think I’m losing my mind. I can’t stop thinking about sex; and not just sex…sex with…people I shouldn’t be thinking sex thoughts about, let’s say. I keep resisting, working out, doing math in my head, and yes, ‘wringing out the dish rag’ until I’m sore and my skin’s red, but nothing helps. I wasn’t this bad when I was a teen-ager, goddamn it! And it keeps getting worse.

Hers: Daily Journal, Day Forty-six: I’ve begun writing a journal to track the increasing irritability and sexual urges. They apparently started a few days ago when I began to have completely inappropriate thoughts concerning Colonel O’Neill. Rationally, this isn’t really surprising considering the conditions we’re forced to live in, and of course nothing has happened to act out these impulses. But they keep getting stronger. Day after day. To say it’s distracting would be a tremendous understatement.



“Sentry Moon”, Day Forty-eight

His: Captain’s…oh, to hell with it. I can never remember the whole stardate thing anyway. Not any better. I’ve begun going back and forth between wanting to have sex with Sam and wanting to smack the crap out of her. It is bad enough wanting to, well, “wanting to”, but I’ve never been this short-tempered before. I don’t like it.

Hers: Daily Journal, Day Forty-eight: I just spent 10 minutes railing at the wall after stubbing my toe, as well as sobbing like a grade-school girl and moaning about my unrequited love. My emotions are a wreck. The impulses are increasing and do not just include those of a sexual nature any more…now there’s anger. Violent anger, which I don’t usually have. I’m getting more than a little concerned. Is there something in the air? What’s causing this?



“Sentry Moon”, Day Fifty

Hers: Daily Journal, Day F—Fift—Fu--Fucking HELL… What in the hell is going on with my goddamned mouth? I sound like a fucking Marine! GAH! Must! Avoid! Jack!

His: No Sam. No Sam. No Sam. No Sam. No Sam…



“Sentry Moon”, Day Fifty-five, Jack

It has to be the food.

Jack sat in the hot tub, a tumbler of cold water perspiring in his hand as he sweated and soaked away the aches in his body after doing his hardest PT since arriving on the Sentry Moon. Every day, he noticed Sam more and more; he already knew her very well as a person and an exemplary officer, but lately his notice of her as a woman was getting completely out of hand.

Or in hand. His point of view changed on that one.

And he was angry. So, so very angry. Unaccountably, uncharacteristically, angry.

It was driving him to distraction. The problem wasn’t his willpower, but he had no one else to discuss it with; the only other person was the one person he could not talk to about it. So, he worked viciously hard at PT—literally, he thought with disgust—and tried to figure out why his libido seemed to suddenly be in overdrive. He never lacked in interest for attractive females, though he didn’t pursue them very actively; he wasn’t a “one-night stand” kind of guy, and long-term relationships just weren’t very practical when you had the sort of military career he enjoyed…and he DID enjoy it.

His career was the dream of officers who would never know that the SGC existed, and he got to live that dream, day after day…and being as honest with himself as he typically was, he knew that even being stranded on another world didn’t dampen that enthusiasm.

Which was sort of the point, really. He enjoyed his work so much, and threw himself into it completely; he just didn’t have TIME for relationships. Jack mused for possibly the hundredth time that the cause of his resurging “urges” was one of two possible origins: Either the increase in personal downtime without daily leadership responsibilities wasn’t enough of a distraction to keep his mind off of sex, or the coincidental increase in libido along with their dietary changes was no coincidence, and honestly, he hoped he wasn’t shallow enough for it to be the former. Unfortunately, cutting back on his local food consumption didn’t seem to be helping.

Yep, nothing to distract my ADD brain and now all I can think about is sex with Sam or choking her. He took a sip of the water and sighed. It’s the food. Yep yep, gotta be the food.

Wincing, he shifted on the ledge seat of the hot tub, reaching into the water to adjust his boxers. Just a few more days and hopefully we can go back to normal before I go bonkers and do something to get me cheerfully court-martialed.



“Sentry Moon”, Day Fifty-five, Sam

Hormones…it has got to be an increase in—Holy Hannah—hormones.

Sam watched Jack enter the hot tub after his workout and couldn’t help but notice the considerable bulge in his boxers, biting her lip and clenching her hands into a fist. Over the last several days she noticed a marked increase in her libido and temper, giving lie to her best intentions and leaving her in a constant state of arousal—or fury—and apparently she wasn’t alone.

Jack seemed to be dealing with his issues by relentlessly and mercilessly working his body into exhaustion via PT. She tried that, but it didn’t help. What DID help at first was spending extra time alone in her room or the hot tub, frantically stroking herself until she exploded into a panting, shaking heap. Unfortunately, that ceased working as a “break-fix” after the first week as her emotions and physical desires kept growing.

Her frustration wasn’t just sexual, though. Sam prided herself on being an excellent officer in the Air Force, which often meant suppressing emotional responses and reactions to situations her male counterparts could conceivably look down on her for, writing her off as an “emotional female” unable to cope with the tension and stresses of being an officer and a woman. While she firmly believed she’d get no such treatment from her team or immediate command, she had seen that treatment given to other females, both enlisted and officer, even in the SGC. As a result, she ruthlessly clamped down on what she felt were frivolous feelings, squashing the occasional desire to cry or rail and scream at the military glass ceiling or injustices and inequality due to gender bias; now, those feelings and urges were raging, and it took every ounce of her self-control to…to…

To what…? To not be human? To not be a woman?

Her internal debate continued and she whimpered quietly as she saw him reach into the water and adjust himself in his boxers, confirming her suspicion that his workout didn’t help at all, and that he continued to be aroused. Growling to herself, she bit her lip until she bordered dangerously on drawing blood, the sharp pain helping to focus her thinking. I clamp down on my emotions all of the time, but never to this degree…what changed? This didn’t happen our first month here; it’s only been the last two weeks or so that…that…

Our diet.

Sam never experienced this kind of emotional upheaval before, and she suspected that Jack did not either; that lent credence to her theory that this was a recent change, and the only thing that changed recently coinciding with their hormonal upswing was their diet. The cows either produce elevated levels of hormones in their systems or something in their systems promotes elevated production of human hormones…probably testosterone, since Jack and I both are more volatile and sexually frustrated. But is it the cow’s meat, or something the cows eat that ends up IN their meat?

Carter strode into the room and to the hot tub, dropping her towel and stepping in. “Jack!”

O’Neill started from his brooding reverie as Sam dropped her towel and stepped into the tub…and promptly latched his eyes onto her face as he took in the pebbled state of her nipples as she settled into the water, poking through her sports bra and utility T-shirt. “Uh, Carter, I’ll come back later—“

“No Jack, sit and listen, we have a problem.”

She caught the expression on his face, and the phrase “deer in the headlights” sprang immediately to mind. Her eyes shot down to the water and felt immediate relief that the roiling bubbles kept her from seeing his form below the surface; unfortunately, he saw her look and he grimaced, turning as he stood, placing his back towards her. “Yeah, I’ll come back later.”

Carter rolled her eyes and she growled, “Jack, we’re adults; we’re officers! Sit the hell down and listen to me!”

Open-mouthed, Jack froze and turned slowly back, his eyes wide with shock. Did…Carter just…

Exasperated, she waved her arms as she continued to berate him, the motion causing interesting things to happen to her now soaking wet, bra-clad breasts in the water. Even in his shocked state, he absently thought, Wow…that’s so… His eyes snapped back to her face as he realized she was now silent…and red-faced and apparently fuming.

Plopping back into the water, he put his face into his hands. “I’m sorry Carter; that was completely unprofessional of me and…”

Stars. Glowing balls of light. Little brilliant dots of ow What The FUCK was THAT?!

He turned back to Sam, his cheek stinging from her open-handed slap. Oddly, she suddenly seemed very, very calm, which seemed to infuriate him for some reason and she slapped me how could she sit there so calmly SHE SLAPPED ME he found himself standing over her, shaking and…Sam’s crying.

Jack dropped back down into the water, splashing hot liquid diamonds onto the marble, gems that immediately melted into wet, dark stains on the hard substance.

“It’s the hormones, Jack. I…I think that either the cow meat causes elevated hormone production or something the cows eat does, but all of this started with the diet changes. I’ve been feeling nearly uncontrollable…urges.”

Seeing the look on his face, of him suddenly wanting to be anywhere else but here and now she continued, quickly explaining more. “I’ve been so angry; volatile…violent. I’ve…noticed you working out so much more and I think that if we tested our testosterone levels now they’d be through the ceiling. So, anything you’re feeling is likely because of that. We just…” She sniffled, rubbing her red, puffy eyes. “We just need to cut back on the meat and hold out a bit longer. The Prometheus should be here in a few days and then we’ll go home and everything will go back to normal and all of these…these FEELINGS will go away and…and…I don’t WANT them to all go away, the wanting you and feeling all of this crap I normally just can’t let out…and…”

Jack froze. Sam froze, mid-babble as the words she said registered in her mind. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean that.”

He looked at her, his face that odd look he had before when watching her bend over. Eyes narrowed, he turned his head slightly, as if watching her from a different angle, giving her the uneasy impression of him being a predator studying prey…and she suddenly felt very exposed wearing next to nothing, translucent and wet next to nothing, in a hot tub…with him.

“Yes you did.”

“No, I—“

“Yes. You did. You meant every word. You keep all of those things inside of you where you never admit to them, you can’t admit them, suppressing feelings, thoughts, emotions, all bottled up.” His head tilted slightly away as he studied her. “But you know what, Carter? Increased hormones aren’t making you feel what isn’t there; they’ve just ripped apart your control. This isn’t mind control. This isn’t possession. You’re still you, only you’re all riled up and not lying to yourself.”

Slowly, he leaned forward, his eyes locked on her eyes as she squeezed them shut. Gently, he pressed his lips to her cheek as his own eyes closed, taking the running tears away as he leaned back.

Sam shivered at the contact of his lips to her cheek, the masculine scent of his body and sweat filling her senses. Her nose flared as she breathed deeply, her head spinning with her senses on overload. She tried getting her breathing under control as Jack continued speaking.

“I think you’ve also noticed that we’re both affected in other ways, if your testosterone theory is right.”

She opened her eyes to see him watching her, and her eyes locked onto his lips; her breath came fast and deep, nearly hyperventilating. As he watched, her eyes darted up to his and he blinked as he realized her eyes were almost all pupil in her arousal, wide and dark, her face flushed down her throat to her chest, her body practically vibrating with need.

Hello, Point Of No Return…so THAT’S what you look like…



“Sentry Moon”, Day Fifty-five, Five Seconds Later

Sam’s breathing wouldn’t slow down. She kept trying to get it under control, willing her breathing to become regular again, and getting further upset when it did not. Her entire body was throbbing from the emotional overload; the anger first, then the arousal, then this…this burning, keening need, unlike anything she’d felt before. When Jack kissed her tears away, she nearly came undone as she realized Jack had just tenderly touched her. The intimacy shocked and aroused her even further. She tried stopping her racing thoughts, her senses on overload as every sight, scent, and sound magnified; and then her thinking shut down as she watched Jack slowly strip off his T-shirt.

She dimly registered her hand reaching out to touch him and…paused.

I have to know…I must.

“Jack…are you sure? I mean…on P4X-347 you said…”

Jack tossed aside his shirt and stood there a moment, his mind racing as her words made him stop and remember their conversation on that beach on P4X-347. So much happened between then and now; he thought he was resolved to keeping military decorum and their relationship professional.

Only now…Now…nothing’s really changed, has it.

He slumped back against the edge of the tub, blinking rapidly and hard as if clearing his eyes. Growling, he forcefully rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, grating out, “Damned hormones. I’m sorry Sam; this isn’t right. It’s wrong and it will mess everything up.”

He grabbed his T-shirt and climbed out of the tub, stomping towards the door. Just before exiting he called back, “Five days, Carter. Five more days.”

Jack tried his best to ignore the sound of Sam crying as he stumbled away to his room.

Author’s Note: Ok, so I lied. No sex and no cross-over. Makes you wonder what’s going to happen in five days though, don’t it? ^_^

The End?

You have reached the end of "Sometimes Wrong Is Right" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 19 Oct 12.

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