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Entry tags:
Ahem. Porn.
For Aj, may she rot in hell. But throw me fab birthday parties.
Genre: Stargate SG1
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: R. There's sex, people. Nonexplicit sex, but sex nonetheless.
Disclaimer: DON'T OWN THEM.
Flashes of Lightning
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
It starts so small.
She asked him for help in the lab, lifting and moving things. And Daniel had been busy with some inscriptions. It's late, of course, and it's just the two of them. Jack jostles her arm, and Sam turns a bit too fast. Suddenly he's catching her arms before she falls against the lab bench. And she giggles, abruptly breathless.
"Ok?"
"Yeah." Sam nods, turns away distracted, then stops and looks up at him. "Sir?"
He hasn't moved, and she can feel the heat of his body touching hers. And it's been so long. Sam stifles a groan of irritation and frustration, and tries to remember what she was going to say.
"What?"
It's late. She can blame it on that, on the over-whelming curiosity, and--hell, she doesn't care for just a moment about her career.
The kiss is swift, before he pulls back. "Major--"
"I know. I'm... not sorry. Sir." Back to work, ignore the lust bubbling beneath her skin. But now she can't concentrate, and even remembering what she was working on is like pulling teeth. It's completely pointless even trying to continue, because he's still *here* and he won't go away. "Sir?"
"Yes, Carter?"
"Could you go away?"
"Um." Colonel O'Neill eyed her oddly, "Is something wrong, Carter?"
"You're distracting me. Sir."
"Oh." He nodded, then tilted his head to the side, "Is this a menopause thing? Should we be worried about emotional imbalances?"
And it's just too much, right now. She's tired, she's stressed, she hasn't had a good lay in so long she can't even count it in a googleplex. "I'll show you emotional imbalance. Sir."
Later, she realises that he had time to move, a military man of his calibre could have easily stopped her. But she's not thinking now as she catches his neck and drags his lips back to hers. Of course, he's not letting her go, this time. And his hands are doing vastly tempting things they shouldn't be doing.
For just a moment, she starts to pull back, starts to think that there was some reason she's not supposed to be doing this. And then he slides his hand up her shirt. Skin to skin contact, and his callouses feel like sandpaper for the thousandth of a second before there's blood rushing through the skin underneath, and she sighs into his mouth. She wants this. Wants to feel all of him, pressed against her, under her, over, any way he wants--and these are thoughts that have bled through her mind for months. Years. Days. Decades. She twists slightly, tightens her grip on his neck and leans into him.
Jack responds by pulling her closer, and she can feel him hard against her stomach. Even through her clothes it feels decadent.
She wants to feel him without his clothes. But there are zippers and buttons and snaps, and she nearly falls over when he slides a hand down her legs. And it's beginning to be sensations in flashes. Touch, taste, feel--sight disappears when he sets her on the table and pushes her notes back. There's cold under her, but his hands are warm. And then he's warm and there and she's falling back, sweat coating her skin as he slides in and out.
Taste goes then, but she fists a hand in his hair and tugs. He kisses her, hard. And this isn't making sense anymore. There isn't that much room on the lab table--not with the computers on it. And the cold against her back shifts, becomming grating and discarded clothing. And it makes sense again.
Logic flies out the window a moment later.
"Jack."
"I know."
She's more insistent this time, "JACK."
No vocal answer, but his mouth is on hers again, and she's screaming into it as the stars explode.
Taste comes back, then. There's something metallic inside her mouth.
"Ow."
"Sir?" Her voice sounds ragged, feels ragged.
"You bit my tongue, Carter."
"I'm sorry, sir."
He shifts, and all thought of being sorry scatters as her body responds. Sam swallows. "Again, sir?"
"What do you mean 'again', Carter?"
She blushes, and opens her eyes to stare at him. "Oh." For he hasn't ever stopped, really. The stars exploded for her, and he simply waited her out. He shifts again, and she moans.
A slight smile touches his lips, "It's always fun surprising a scientist."
Her thoughts scatter again, and it all becomes unreal. And then Jack begins to beep insistantly.
Major Samantha Carter blindly slams a fist into her alarm clock, and curses. She tries to recapture the fading remnants of her dream, but they're gone, as swift and fleeting as Jack's smiles. Tunring onto her side, Sam sighs.
And a male arm slides over her waist.
"Sam?" The voice is groggy, and she wonders if she kicked him.
"Go back to sleep, Daniel."
"Mmkay."
Staring into the dark, she curses more. This is stupid, pointless, ridiculous, and fraudulent. But Daniel is there. And he doesn't care if its his name she screams or not. He has a hundred girlfriends on a thousand different worlds. And he knows exactly how to make them happy.
-finis-
Genre: Stargate SG1
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: R. There's sex, people. Nonexplicit sex, but sex nonetheless.
Disclaimer: DON'T OWN THEM.
Flashes of Lightning
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
It starts so small.
She asked him for help in the lab, lifting and moving things. And Daniel had been busy with some inscriptions. It's late, of course, and it's just the two of them. Jack jostles her arm, and Sam turns a bit too fast. Suddenly he's catching her arms before she falls against the lab bench. And she giggles, abruptly breathless.
"Ok?"
"Yeah." Sam nods, turns away distracted, then stops and looks up at him. "Sir?"
He hasn't moved, and she can feel the heat of his body touching hers. And it's been so long. Sam stifles a groan of irritation and frustration, and tries to remember what she was going to say.
"What?"
It's late. She can blame it on that, on the over-whelming curiosity, and--hell, she doesn't care for just a moment about her career.
The kiss is swift, before he pulls back. "Major--"
"I know. I'm... not sorry. Sir." Back to work, ignore the lust bubbling beneath her skin. But now she can't concentrate, and even remembering what she was working on is like pulling teeth. It's completely pointless even trying to continue, because he's still *here* and he won't go away. "Sir?"
"Yes, Carter?"
"Could you go away?"
"Um." Colonel O'Neill eyed her oddly, "Is something wrong, Carter?"
"You're distracting me. Sir."
"Oh." He nodded, then tilted his head to the side, "Is this a menopause thing? Should we be worried about emotional imbalances?"
And it's just too much, right now. She's tired, she's stressed, she hasn't had a good lay in so long she can't even count it in a googleplex. "I'll show you emotional imbalance. Sir."
Later, she realises that he had time to move, a military man of his calibre could have easily stopped her. But she's not thinking now as she catches his neck and drags his lips back to hers. Of course, he's not letting her go, this time. And his hands are doing vastly tempting things they shouldn't be doing.
For just a moment, she starts to pull back, starts to think that there was some reason she's not supposed to be doing this. And then he slides his hand up her shirt. Skin to skin contact, and his callouses feel like sandpaper for the thousandth of a second before there's blood rushing through the skin underneath, and she sighs into his mouth. She wants this. Wants to feel all of him, pressed against her, under her, over, any way he wants--and these are thoughts that have bled through her mind for months. Years. Days. Decades. She twists slightly, tightens her grip on his neck and leans into him.
Jack responds by pulling her closer, and she can feel him hard against her stomach. Even through her clothes it feels decadent.
She wants to feel him without his clothes. But there are zippers and buttons and snaps, and she nearly falls over when he slides a hand down her legs. And it's beginning to be sensations in flashes. Touch, taste, feel--sight disappears when he sets her on the table and pushes her notes back. There's cold under her, but his hands are warm. And then he's warm and there and she's falling back, sweat coating her skin as he slides in and out.
Taste goes then, but she fists a hand in his hair and tugs. He kisses her, hard. And this isn't making sense anymore. There isn't that much room on the lab table--not with the computers on it. And the cold against her back shifts, becomming grating and discarded clothing. And it makes sense again.
Logic flies out the window a moment later.
"Jack."
"I know."
She's more insistent this time, "JACK."
No vocal answer, but his mouth is on hers again, and she's screaming into it as the stars explode.
Taste comes back, then. There's something metallic inside her mouth.
"Ow."
"Sir?" Her voice sounds ragged, feels ragged.
"You bit my tongue, Carter."
"I'm sorry, sir."
He shifts, and all thought of being sorry scatters as her body responds. Sam swallows. "Again, sir?"
"What do you mean 'again', Carter?"
She blushes, and opens her eyes to stare at him. "Oh." For he hasn't ever stopped, really. The stars exploded for her, and he simply waited her out. He shifts again, and she moans.
A slight smile touches his lips, "It's always fun surprising a scientist."
Her thoughts scatter again, and it all becomes unreal. And then Jack begins to beep insistantly.
Major Samantha Carter blindly slams a fist into her alarm clock, and curses. She tries to recapture the fading remnants of her dream, but they're gone, as swift and fleeting as Jack's smiles. Tunring onto her side, Sam sighs.
And a male arm slides over her waist.
"Sam?" The voice is groggy, and she wonders if she kicked him.
"Go back to sleep, Daniel."
"Mmkay."
Staring into the dark, she curses more. This is stupid, pointless, ridiculous, and fraudulent. But Daniel is there. And he doesn't care if its his name she screams or not. He has a hundred girlfriends on a thousand different worlds. And he knows exactly how to make them happy.
-finis-
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WOOHOOO!
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BEST LINE EVER!
This is great! Evil! And...Wheee!
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Yes. Lyssie's first foray into SGwun, and it was Sam/Jack pron... Only not. ;)
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....yeah. sigh.
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You wrote SG-1 fic where Sam giggles!
*feels betrayed, omg*
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(dude, it really was the first thing I'd written....)
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It's weird actually - occasionally I come across a fic I read before I knew who you were and go "Oh, that's lyssie fic". (The most recent example being the strap one, which I love btw)
*eyes comment* God, that's a lot of babble, isn't it?
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*laughs* Yeah, I get that, too. I'll be like, *rereads* *pause* *blink* Risa-fic! etc... (at least I'm getting slightly better at feedback...) (and I love the straps fic. And, damnit, I'm not dumbing it down for the people who just don't get it)
Nah. *g*
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What's not to get about the strap fic? It's short, snappy, elegant... *reads your ff.net reviews and bursts out laughing* Good grief, I've never seen anyone use 'lyk' for 'like' before. Which reminds me, I must write more starryeyedromantic!fic.
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*eg* Yes. Yes you should (and, dude, I'm glad to know it's understandable. Arg.)