Stargate SG-1: “Always” (Leather and Lace Series XVII)

Stargate SG-1 Leather and Lace Always

Part 17 of “Leather and Lace“

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Tap. Tap. Tap.

The pen hit the desk again and again until Jack finally let it go. It clattered once before going still next to the pile of papers with unchecked reports on the side of his desk.

The folder sat open in front of him, mocking him with its crisp paper and the blank space waiting for his signature.

Pressing his palms to his eyes, he leaned back in the chair, trying to will away the pressure building behind his ribs.

He should’ve seen this coming the moment he recommended her.

Of course they’d choose her. She was the best—insanely smart, reliable, leadership qualities. Atlantis had asked for her by name more than once.

A part of him—small and selfish—had hoped they’d settle for someone else. Someone just barely good enough.

Someone who wasn’t her.

The list had included four other names after all. He dropped his hands and stared at the ceiling.

If he’d bent the rules just once, just enough to leave her name off that list…

But they’d agreed that their careers would always come first. No special treatment, no favoritism, no hesitation. And as her commanding officer, it was on him to uphold that—for both their sakes.

He leaned forward again, eyes falling to the dotted line.

There was still time to stop it. Claim that her work was essential here on Earth. Fabricate some new project that her assistance was mandatory for.

They’d believe him. He was the general. He had the power to keep her here and nobody would ask questions about it.

But he’d know the truth. And that knowledge would fester inside him, silent and corrosive.

He exhaled, slow and heavy, and reached for the pen.

General Jack O’Neill.

Done. No taking it back.

Now the only question was how the hell he was supposed to let her go.

—

“You better be ready for me.”

That tone—low and rough—snapped her to attention. Sam straightened, heart already pounding.

This time, she was ready. She’d made damn sure of it.

Last week, she hadn’t been. They’d agreed on a scene—him in charge, her waiting, available and ready to be taken by him. But when he hadn’t shown up on time, she’d slipped and continued writing her research paper on The Quantum State of Boson Particles Travelling Through a Wormhole.

After he’d arrived, she’d barely had time to hit “save” on her quantum physics paper before finding herself over his knee. The memory still stung—on her ass and in her pride.

The spanking had left her gasping and aching, and the orgasm denial that followed had wrecked her. Two days of teasing, edging, being brought close then left raw and empty. She wasn’t doing that again.

“I am ready, Sir.”

Her gaze dropped to his uniform. Full dress blues. Rigid stance. That dark frown.

He crossed the space in three deliberate steps and clamped a hand around her nape. Her breath caught. His gaze raked over her face.

Then he turned her sharply and shoved her down onto the dining table. The wooden edge pushed into her stomach. She yelped.

“Bad day, Sir?” she asked, breathless. A smile tugged at her lips.

His growl was low and warning. She knew that sound.

She’d once confessed how much she loved it if he used her to unwind—so long as he stayed clear of limits. It unleashed a darkness in him that she craved. And sometimes feared in the most delicious way.

Nothing like a bit of safe edge play to induce an adrenaline high.

He hovered over her, body a solid wall of heat and restraint. His breath brushed her nape.

“What I’m about to do might cross a line,” he said. “Use your safeword immediately if I should stop.”

A bolt of excitement tightened her limbs. Her voice faltered. “What are yo—”

“Shut up and listen.”

“Yes, Sir.” She snapped silent.

“I recommended you and four others for command in Atlantis. To replace Dr. Weir.” A pause. Her mind reeled. “They chose you. Wasn’t my call. But I signed off on it.”

The words hit like a punch to her gut. This wasn’t part of a fantasy. He was talking real life. He was talking as General O’Neill.

“What?” Her breath hitched, and she tried to stand up. His hands kept her pinned in place. “How could you do that without asking me?”

“Since when do the two stars come with a consultation clause?”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Things were finally good—between them, at work, and with the Ori. There was routine. Stability even. Why the hell would he blow that up?

She twisted against his grip, then stilled.

Atlantis.

The new frontier in the Pegasus galaxy. New tech. Uncharted science. Definitely a leap for her career, both in the Air Force and as a scientist. And it would clear the path for promotion to the high ranks.

A few years ago, she’d have done anything for the opportunity.

Now however, it came at a high price. Too high?

Jack shoved his hips into her backside, drawing her out of her ruminations.

Her scream tore out muffled. Once more, she fought against his grip, and when his fingers dug deeper into her arms, frustration and fury collided.

“You’re a jerk.”

His palm landed sharp and hot on her ass. She froze, the sting reigniting arousal.

“Use your safeword,” he growled. She understood instantly that he was giving her a subtle choice. And knew which way she’d go.

“With all due respect, Sir, screw you.”

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled her arms behind her back in a firm grip and yanked her jeans down, rough enough to burn.

“No!”

Her mind raced in circles. Atlantis. There were other option to further her career if that’s what he wanted. Why send her to another galaxy? Was this his way of pushing her out? Of getting rid of her?

Sure, as a two-star general, he technically had the right to make personnel decisions. And they had agreed not to let their relationship interfere with work decisions. But Atlantis? That was a huge decision, one that she should have been consulted on before he made it.

She kicked, but the denim tangled at her ankles stopped her. “Don’t you dare touch me, you son of—”

The rubber gag that he pushed into her mouth cut her off. She gritted out a frustrated little scream.

He pulled her panties down. She whimpered as he bent her over and held her there with his weight, his body immovable.

What I’m about to do might cross a line…

Then it dawned on her. He had known she’d be furious. Knew she’d need a way to release the turmoil of emotions that would inevitably follow the new. This was his way of giving it to her.

A scene gave them space—safe, contained, understood. Where he could act as her superior officer and she could scream, fight him and rage. Without damage to her career or their relationship.

Her throat constricted as her vision became blurry from tears. They had become so good at this, so good together.

How could she ever give this up?

She finally twisted free and shoved against him, catching him off balance. She bolted for the door—

—and crashed to the floor in a graceless heap.

Ingenious move to attempt running with her pants wrapped around her ankles.

He was on her in seconds. Roughly he pulled her arms to her back, then he tied her wrists with something soft.

“So you want it the hard way?” he breathed. “Fine.”

He covered her with his body, mouth hot at her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now. Until you come and then some. And you’ll take it. Quietly.”

She whimpered into the gag. Her eyes burned. She wouldn’t come. Not after he had decided to send her off to another galaxy without so much as discussing it with her beforehand.

He growled. “I’m in charge. You’ll follow my orders.”

She screamed something incoherent against the gag. Kicked again. He yanked her back towards the table.

The carpet scratched her knees. Her bound fists slammed weakly back against him.

Then his hand found its way between her legs, fingers slipping between her folds. Once. Twice. Then inside. Deep.

She was soaked.

No. Damn it, no. She clenched and tried to reject him. Her cheeks burned with anger at her body for its refusal to reject the arousal.

When he pulled his fingers out of her, she shoved sideways and somehow made it to her feet, stumbling toward the door—

Only to be slammed with her back against the wall by him. The impact knocked the air from her lungs.

His fingers unclipped the gag, and she spit it out. Before she could collect herself to snap another insult at him, he shoved his fingers into her mouth. “Don’t bite.”

She moaned around the taste—herself.

“Fight all you want,” he said, tone low and dangerous. “It won’t help.”

The rasp of his zipper sent a shiver down her spine, heat pooling low as her body recognized the promise in that small, unmistakable sound.

He lifted her left leg around his hip. Then he was inside her. No pause, no warning. The shock of it buckled her knees. She gasped. Her walls fluttered around him, grasping.

He gave her no time. Pulled back. Slammed in harder.

“Please!” she gasped.

His hand clamped at her throat. Just enough pressure. Just enough illusion of danger.

“Quiet.”

Her breath hitched when his other hand dropped from holding her leg to her clit.

Damn him. Damn him for knowing. For always knowing where and when to touch.

His finger moved slow, precise, up and down that one spot that unraveled her.

She tried to wriggle away from his hand but his lower body pinned her in place. She twisted her hands in the restraint in a futile attempt to free them. “I won’t come for you.”

“Oh, but you will.”

“You think you can just decide everything for me?”

His hand moved to her hair, gripped sharply and pulled her head back. Her eyes fluttered open and stared up into his dark ones.

His mouth pulled into a slow, dangerous smile. “You think I can’t?”

His rhythm stayed relentless. This wasn’t just sex. He demanded complete surrender. To him.

To the situation. Her brain raced again.

The Air Force would tear them apart. Atlantis meant separation. Sacrifice.

No more scenes. No more routine. No more them.

“Stop thinking.” Growling, he released her hair and struck her ass with his flat palm. Hard. Her clit pulsed.

Then—his mouth. On her neck. Teeth, tongue, breath. His thrusts grew savage.

“You’re mine,” he said, “and you do as I say.”

Her eyes burned. Behind her back, she fisted her hands, trying desperately to fight the unbearable need to give in. To moan. To beg him for more.

“No, Sir,” she sobbed.

He slowed—but didn’t stop.

His thumb brushed her throat. Gentle now. “Come for me.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“Come.” Firmer. More final.

His tone nearly sent her over the edge. She quivered against him. “You’re a jerk.”

“I know.” His mouth grazed her jaw. “You’ll still come for me.”

Her walls clenched. Her limbs trembled as she fought against the approaching release.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered and stilled, “do you want to safeword?”

She blinked, her cheeks wet from tears. Concern stood in his eyes. She was shaking.

“No.” Her word carried no sound. His face swam before her. She needed this. Needed him to pretend to be a jerk so she could deal.

He brought his mouth closer to hers. Their breaths mingled as he began thrusting again. Steady. Hard. Relentless.

How long would it still be like this? She’d lose him and lose herself in the process. Of course, this day had to come at some point. Her post at the Stargate Center couldn’t be permanent. And they were both on active duty.

It wasn’t his fault. Or hers.

But it still hurt like hell.

“Stop thinking,” he growled, his voice rough with exertion. “I swear, Carter, if I have to repeat myself one more time—”

“Then what?” she snapped breathlessly, defiance mixing dangerously with desire. “Just come already.”

Surprisingly, he did. With a loud growl, he drove into her one last hard thrust and stilled, shuddering against her.

For a moment, the silence afterward echoed painfully through her heart. Emptiness clawed at her chest. Was it over already? Had she pushed him too far?

He withdrew abruptly, leaving her aching and hollow. Then he grasped her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet his dark gaze. His breath came in short bursts, his eyes glittering fiercely.

“That,” he rasped, “was willful disobedience.”

She chuckled, shaky and weak. Provoking him further was probably not the best move right now, but she needed his darkness to swallow up her own.

His fingers slid into her hair, pulling her close, the tug sharp and possessive. Then a low growl. “Oh, I’m not even close to finished with you.”

He crushed his mouth onto hers, claiming her roughly. She surrendered, melting beneath his dominating kiss as he backed her swiftly through the hallway, into the bedroom. Her legs trembled, and her pulse raced by the time he broke the kiss and pushed her onto the bed.

“Move to the headboard. Now.”

Breathless, limbs weak with anticipation, she obeyed, sliding backward until the pillow cradled her head. She watched him strip methodically—jacket discarded neatly, shirt unbuttoned with calm, calculated movements. Her mouth went dry as he pulled his undershirt off, revealing the hard planes of his chest.

Her breath caught sharply as he retrieved his black bag from the wardrobe, laying out toys that made her heart pound harder.

“Sir—shouldn’t we talk about—”

“You speak only when permitted.”

Sam bit her lip, heart slamming in her chest, watching helplessly as he approached with some rope. At his curt command, she opened her legs. His fingers moved slowly, confidently, as he tied each ankle, the rope hugging her skin like a reassuring, sensual embrace.

Her pulse steadied under the gentle caress of his hands. The rope tightened gradually until escape was impossible. Yet, rather than panic, she felt a deep, comforting peace.

He settled beside her, leaning in close. “This is gonna be fun.”

“Sir—”

“Quiet,” he barked as if she were a first year cadet.

He studied the toys he had laid out and picked up the magic wand vibrator. His mouth pulled into a dark smirk as he turned it on. A low buzz filled the room.

He brought his mouth close to her ear. “Not a sound from you,” he whispered and pressed the head of the vibrator to her clit.

The low buzz jolted through her, forcing a whimper from her lips. She arched against the overwhelming sensation, gasping and writhing. He watched her sweet torment for a moment before he brought his mouth close to hers.

She stared up into his dark gaze, then his mouth, her lips opening. No, she wouldn’t give in yet!

She turned her head to the side.

“Let go.” His breath washed hot over her cheek.

She resisted a moment longer, fighting the powerful waves rising within her. It was too much, damn it. She gritted out a scream as pleasure exploded, intense and shattering, ripping all control from her and leaving her shaking violently.

Still, he pressed the toy harder against her, refusing to grant mercy. “You’re still fighting me.”

“Sir—please!” she cried, desperation lacing her voice.

“You think one reluctant orgasm will make up for your disobedience?” His breath ghosted over her ear shell while his hand pushed her deeper into overstimulation. “This is your last warning. Any more word and I will turn this up a notch.”

A shiver washed down her spine. She was tempted to test his resolve, but clamped her mouth shut, terrified of what “a notch” might mean—and equally terrified of how much she wanted to find out.

He pressed her deeper into the mattress, his body a cage of warmth and strength over hers. She writhed instinctively, but there was nowhere to go. All she could do was take it. Every movement only seemed to make things worse—her will weaker, the sensations sharper, the infernal buzz of the toy between her thighs more intense.

She panted, desperate. The world narrowed to the relentless buzz against her clit, the unbearable edge of too much and not enough.

“Please stop,” she breathed, a whisper she didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud.

Punishment was instant. He turned the dial, and the buzzing surged—higher, crueler. Her back arched, bringing her chest in full contact with him as a strangled squeal escaped her throat. Pleasure struck her like a bolt of lightning, stealing her breath. There was no shielding herself from it now. Her body shook violently, as the next orgasm crashed over her.

He still didn’t stop.

Over and over, the ecstasy tore through her—each peak more raw, more consuming than the last. Her cries dissolved into whimpers, whimpers into gasps, her body a trembling mess of overstimulated nerves. Her mind began to float—detached from time, from reality, from anger. There was only sensation… and him.

And then, gently, the world began to return.

She was lying on top of him. His warm chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, each heartbeat steady and strong. One of his hands stroked along the curve of her back, feather-light and soothing, tracing slow circles that calmed the tremors still rippling through her. The other cradled the back of her neck, stroking gently.

He had untied her.

“Jack,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

“I’m here,” he replied gently.

She sighed contentedly, melting into his care. After a quiet eternity, she found the strength to speak again. “That was intense.”

“And a new record,” he murmured, fingers coming up to comb through her hair. “You came thirteen times before I had to stop.”

She laughed softly. “Thirteen isn’t lucky.”

His eyes sparked with amusement. “Is that a challenge for more?”

Her smile widened. “Maybe.”

“Careful, you’ll still be in D.C. for four more days.”

Smiling, she raised her wrists, noting faint red marks.

He quickly soothed her worry. “Those will fade in a coupla hours. Don’t worry.”

Her expression grew serious. “Why Atlantis?”

His voice was calm, steady. But the tension beneath it ran like a current through his body. “It wasn’t my choice, Sam. But keeping you off the list for personal reasons? That would’ve crossed a line. One we swore we wouldn’t cross.”

“You don’t want me to go?” she whispered, unsure if his answer would make her feel better either way.

His features softened. That rigid exterior slipped just enough to show the struggle underneath. “As your superior officer, I have to tell you to take the assignment. You earned it. You’ve worked your ass off.” He paused, eyes shadowing. “As a man…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

God. This was it. The breaking point. The reason the rules existed in the first place—because sooner or later, love and duty collided. And when they did, they took pieces with them.

“Look, Carter…” He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “If you really don’t wanna go, I can make a few calls. But you need to think about it carefully. It’s your career.”

She rested her chin on her hands, folded over his chest, her gaze holding his. “Is that General O’Neill speaking? Or Jack?”

His eyes didn’t waver. Unarmored now. Raw. “Carter…”

“A few years ago, I would’ve given anything for this opportunity.”

His lips tugged into a ghost of a smile. “I remember. What changed?”

“Us.” Her voice trembled. “I have a life now—beyond the uniform.”

He exhaled sharply, pressing his palms briefly against his eyes. “That’s exactly why—as your CO—I can’t let you—”

“Jack,” she said, quiet but firm. “Stop. Please. Don’t talk to me like my CO. I—” She stopped herself. They’d made a pact—careers first, always. But here she was, teetering. What did she even want to hear from him?

The decision wasn’t his. It was hers. And she needed to own that.

Her voice softened. “The scientist in me still wants to go. So does the soldier. It’s just harder now. I want other things too. Things that weren’t even an option back then.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, slow and careful, pulling her closer. Her cheek found the heat of his chest, and she breathed in the familiar scent of him.

“What’s the duration of the assignment?” she asked, not lifting her head.

“Until further notice.”

A cold weight pressed into her chest. “That could mean anything. Months. Years. Depends on how things in Atlantis play out.”

“Doubt it’ll be that long. But yeah, it could.” He tipped her chin up, gaze steady, but soft. “No one’s better qualified than you. It’d be command. A direct path to general.”

Her fingers drifted across his chest.

“Sam, you don’t know if you’ll get another chance like this. If you turn it down, could you live with it?” His voice was low, but it carried weight. “Think about this. It’s all you ever wanted.”

She knew that. Had known it before he said a word.

His lips lingered at her temple. “I’ll still be here when you come back.”

She hesitated. “If I come back.”

His arms tensed. “Sam—”

“You know the risks. Atlantis isn’t a cushy off-world post. We can’t ignore that.”

He cupped her cheek, thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “There have always been risks. Never stopped us before.”

Her heart twisted. The thought of losing him—losing them… almost like a countdown had already started.

“It feels different now,” she whispered. “It sounds like you want me to go.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you give this up,” he said. Sincerity darkened his eyes. “Not when I want us to last.”

“What if…” She hesitated, heart pounding. “What if I resigned and transferred to a civilian department? A lab, something here in D.C.?”

He blinked. Coughed. “Wait—are you serious? That’s not what you—Is that really what you want?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was soft. Vulnerable. “It’s crossed my mind. The Air Force is always keeping us apart, and I’m not sure how long I can keep living like that.”

“Don’t you dare give up your career for me,” he said, firm. “You love what you do.” He paused, just a beat. “I’ve been thinking about retiring.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

He shrugged, a little sheepish. “It’s been a good run. But promotions now? Just bigger desks. And you know how much I love those.”

She bit her lip, smiling despite herself.

“I’ve thought about it for a while. Not even because of us. I meant it—I’ve done what I set out to do.”

Her gaze traced the curve of his mouth, the familiar lines of his face. “It would still be a sacrifice.”

He leaned in, voice warm, teasing. “Fishing all day. Maybe time for a dog. And tying you up in our bedroom? Doesn’t feel like a sacrifice.”

She laughed, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight. “Well, when you put it that way…” She hesitated. “But it would be a shame not to see you in those dress blues again.”

“Who says you won’t?” His eyes gleamed, playful. “I’m keeping the uniform.”

She watched him, the warmth in her chest deepening. He meant it—every word. Retirement, building a life together. Atlantis didn’t have to be the end. Just a detour. They could make it work.

“We should discuss this further. After…” She took a shaky breath.

“After Atlantis?” he asked, smiling knowingly.

She nodded. “After Atlantis.”

He shifted beneath her, clearing his throat. His voice dropped low. “We could also—you know—get married.”

Her breath caught. The word hit like a warm wave—not terrifying, not too big. Just right.

She opened her mouth, but he touched a finger to her lips. “Tell me after you come back.”

The warmth in his eyes told her that he knew her answer.

She cocked her head. “What if it takes years?”

“Then I’ll visit.” His eyes sparkled, unwavering. “And if they don’t let you go, I’ll retire to Atlantis. I hear they’ve got some big fish.”

She laughed again, breathless with relief. She curled against him, face pressed to the crook of his neck. He always felt like home.

His scent wrapped around her. Warm. Steady.

“You really think we’ll be okay? Even with a galaxy between us?”

“Of course.” His arms locked around her, strong and sure. He kissed her temple, slow and certain. “Always.”

The End (May 10, 2025)

Author’s Note

Thank you so much for your patience with this final chapter. For a long time, I wasn’t sure I’d ever finish it. The first draft had been sitting quietly on my hard drive since 2017—nearly a decade ago.

Rediscovering the story now, I felt that Sam and Jack deserved the proper ending I had intended for them. Since the first draft was already there, I revisited it with fresh, more experienced eyes and spent time editing deeply to reconnect with their voices. I hope I’ve given them—and you—the ending you were waiting for.