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Entry tags:
sigh.
This one's R/NC17, folks. And might disturb many people.
Jack/RepliCarter. May contain spoilers for Affinity.
Totally and utterly nos' fault.
Also unbetad and untitled and possibly unfinished. But I so need to go to bed and there's two lines of Coconuts I need to type up yet, so...
It starts when he finds her in his bed. Her eyes watch him, unblinking and unfathomable. It takes too long to figure out what's going on and she's got him pinned against the wall mouth hot on his before he even thinks to object. Not that he really wants to. Not that her hand sliding into his pants and gripping his cock don't distract him from his protestations. He's always held off for her sake, and since she's suddenly not...
Later, he'll decide that second-guessing seven years of sexual tension is pointless.
Sometimes you simply have to go with it, and when Sam Carter is dropping to her knees and unzipping your pants, well... You should be forgiven for not stopping her. Her mouth is hot on him, the saliva slippery as it coats him. Watching the blonde head bobbing is almost more than he can stand.
But she seems to know his limits and when his knees are about to give out, she pulls back. The pop echoes in the room.
Moving to the bed she looks back at him, her eyes dark. He follows the invitation, grabs her hips as she kneels. She bends forward and he takes a moment to appreciate the view again then slides a hand between her thighs. Touching, testing, she is slick already, and her back arches as he slides a finger in and out for a moment.
Then he gets on the bed and pulls her towards him. For a moment, it's awkward. And then she shifts, and he thrusts. And, dear, god.
They waited seven years for this?
He thrusts in, trying to take it slow, but she isn't going along with this course of action. Shifting against him, shoving back. And suddenly they're fucking, his balls slapping her ass as he pounds into her, his dick riding high as she clenches around him.
When he comes he has no dignity and he doesn't care if she came before or after him. Because she is hot and wet and oh-so tight. And this is something he's always wanted.
Eventually, he seperates from her, flops onto his back, stares at the ceiling.
Now the doubts come crowding in.
And something else.
In the entire time they've been making mad, passionate... Well, love doesn't really cover what they've just done. She has been silent.
That is wrong.
She is wrong.
Perhaps she senses more than he knows, because she is suddenly straddling him, her hands on his shoulders. And she weighs a hell of a lot more than she should. The weight feels strangely erotic, and he's disturbed to think that he might get hard again.
"I've just fucked a robot."
A smile twists her mouth. "Oh, come on, Colonel, I'm sure you can be more creative than that." The voice is the same, but the tone is wrong, the words are wrong. The tension between them is wrong.
Colonel.
Oh, yeah. This was not a good thing.
Except she hasn't killed him yet. And he IS getting hard again. Wow. Maybe Doc Frasier was slipping him viagra all this time and not just vitamins. Her hand reaches between them and finds his hardening erection. The smile changes, "Ah, Colonel. I was hoping you had it in you."
With a sigh that he echoes she sinks down onto him, grinding her hips against his. A groan escaped him.
"Come on, Colonel, fuck me again. Make me scream." She shifted, bending forward and placing her hands on either side of his head. "You've only made me talk, so far. I haven't even counted my name in the stars."
He shoved upwards, thrusting hard into her. She let out a soft moan and countered by leaning over and nipping his lips. Little biting kisses that had him winding one hand into her hair to slow her down so he could slide his tongue between her teeth. The other hand grasps a nipple and rolls it. He's determined to make this about her, this time.
Some tiny part of him is screaming that this is wrong, this isn't her, this is so fucking stupid--but the rest doesn't care.
It's been more than seven years and he's finally fucking Samantha Carter.
Or someone or something that looks like her.
Right now, he doesn't care.
His hands learn every inch they can reach and then one settles down where they're joined and he fingers her in ever-increasing strokes. First fast, then slow, then fast, and she really likes it because she says so. And she bites him.
At least, he's hoping the bite is a good thing.
Raking her nails down his chest is also a good thing.
She comes, this time, throws her head back and howls at the ceiling. The sound is not entirely human, there's an undercurrent of bitterness and metallic chitterings that make his blood run cold. But she's still bouncing up and down on him, dragging him those last few inches with her.
When he comes down this time, she is standing at the window, back to him.
"Hey." His voice is raspy, and he hopes he didn't yell anything embarassing.
She half-turns and looks at him, "Sam Carter is a lucky woman."
"I'll have to take your word for it."
"Yeah." She looks down, then back at him. There's an uncertainness in her movements now. A mechanical jerkiness that reminds him of something. "I... This was about revenge, Jack. And I seem to... have rebounded it upon myself."
"Who are you?"
"No one." And then she was moving, leaving the room and the moonlight and the shadows. Leaving him soaked in sweat and bodily fluids and more sated than he's been in *years*.
"Wait."
"I can't."
"Come back."
"Someday."
He lays there for what feels like hours and then finally gets up when a clock somewhere begins tolling one a.m. The bed will need to be stripped and he needs a shower. And... he considers making a phone call. But in all probability the real Sam Carter is asleep in the arms of her fiancee. His gut twists at the thought and then he straightens.
That could be dealt with later. After he'd cleaned up.
And eaten.
Some tiny part of him is hoping the imposter keeps her promise.
Jack/RepliCarter. May contain spoilers for Affinity.
Totally and utterly nos' fault.
Also unbetad and untitled and possibly unfinished. But I so need to go to bed and there's two lines of Coconuts I need to type up yet, so...
It starts when he finds her in his bed. Her eyes watch him, unblinking and unfathomable. It takes too long to figure out what's going on and she's got him pinned against the wall mouth hot on his before he even thinks to object. Not that he really wants to. Not that her hand sliding into his pants and gripping his cock don't distract him from his protestations. He's always held off for her sake, and since she's suddenly not...
Later, he'll decide that second-guessing seven years of sexual tension is pointless.
Sometimes you simply have to go with it, and when Sam Carter is dropping to her knees and unzipping your pants, well... You should be forgiven for not stopping her. Her mouth is hot on him, the saliva slippery as it coats him. Watching the blonde head bobbing is almost more than he can stand.
But she seems to know his limits and when his knees are about to give out, she pulls back. The pop echoes in the room.
Moving to the bed she looks back at him, her eyes dark. He follows the invitation, grabs her hips as she kneels. She bends forward and he takes a moment to appreciate the view again then slides a hand between her thighs. Touching, testing, she is slick already, and her back arches as he slides a finger in and out for a moment.
Then he gets on the bed and pulls her towards him. For a moment, it's awkward. And then she shifts, and he thrusts. And, dear, god.
They waited seven years for this?
He thrusts in, trying to take it slow, but she isn't going along with this course of action. Shifting against him, shoving back. And suddenly they're fucking, his balls slapping her ass as he pounds into her, his dick riding high as she clenches around him.
When he comes he has no dignity and he doesn't care if she came before or after him. Because she is hot and wet and oh-so tight. And this is something he's always wanted.
Eventually, he seperates from her, flops onto his back, stares at the ceiling.
Now the doubts come crowding in.
And something else.
In the entire time they've been making mad, passionate... Well, love doesn't really cover what they've just done. She has been silent.
That is wrong.
She is wrong.
Perhaps she senses more than he knows, because she is suddenly straddling him, her hands on his shoulders. And she weighs a hell of a lot more than she should. The weight feels strangely erotic, and he's disturbed to think that he might get hard again.
"I've just fucked a robot."
A smile twists her mouth. "Oh, come on, Colonel, I'm sure you can be more creative than that." The voice is the same, but the tone is wrong, the words are wrong. The tension between them is wrong.
Colonel.
Oh, yeah. This was not a good thing.
Except she hasn't killed him yet. And he IS getting hard again. Wow. Maybe Doc Frasier was slipping him viagra all this time and not just vitamins. Her hand reaches between them and finds his hardening erection. The smile changes, "Ah, Colonel. I was hoping you had it in you."
With a sigh that he echoes she sinks down onto him, grinding her hips against his. A groan escaped him.
"Come on, Colonel, fuck me again. Make me scream." She shifted, bending forward and placing her hands on either side of his head. "You've only made me talk, so far. I haven't even counted my name in the stars."
He shoved upwards, thrusting hard into her. She let out a soft moan and countered by leaning over and nipping his lips. Little biting kisses that had him winding one hand into her hair to slow her down so he could slide his tongue between her teeth. The other hand grasps a nipple and rolls it. He's determined to make this about her, this time.
Some tiny part of him is screaming that this is wrong, this isn't her, this is so fucking stupid--but the rest doesn't care.
It's been more than seven years and he's finally fucking Samantha Carter.
Or someone or something that looks like her.
Right now, he doesn't care.
His hands learn every inch they can reach and then one settles down where they're joined and he fingers her in ever-increasing strokes. First fast, then slow, then fast, and she really likes it because she says so. And she bites him.
At least, he's hoping the bite is a good thing.
Raking her nails down his chest is also a good thing.
She comes, this time, throws her head back and howls at the ceiling. The sound is not entirely human, there's an undercurrent of bitterness and metallic chitterings that make his blood run cold. But she's still bouncing up and down on him, dragging him those last few inches with her.
When he comes down this time, she is standing at the window, back to him.
"Hey." His voice is raspy, and he hopes he didn't yell anything embarassing.
She half-turns and looks at him, "Sam Carter is a lucky woman."
"I'll have to take your word for it."
"Yeah." She looks down, then back at him. There's an uncertainness in her movements now. A mechanical jerkiness that reminds him of something. "I... This was about revenge, Jack. And I seem to... have rebounded it upon myself."
"Who are you?"
"No one." And then she was moving, leaving the room and the moonlight and the shadows. Leaving him soaked in sweat and bodily fluids and more sated than he's been in *years*.
"Wait."
"I can't."
"Come back."
"Someday."
He lays there for what feels like hours and then finally gets up when a clock somewhere begins tolling one a.m. The bed will need to be stripped and he needs a shower. And... he considers making a phone call. But in all probability the real Sam Carter is asleep in the arms of her fiancee. His gut twists at the thought and then he straightens.
That could be dealt with later. After he'd cleaned up.
And eaten.
Some tiny part of him is hoping the imposter keeps her promise.
no subject
Oh. My. God. *hyperventilates*
*passes out*
You kick so much ass, you don't even know.
no subject
*offers oxygen*