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When the porn hits the fan, like a big pizza pan, that's Scorpius...
Liz/Sam
Siler/RepliCarter
Moya/The Beatles
Stark/Obi-Wan
Replicarter/Pete Shanahan
Cally/Zhaan
Elly, honey, I refuse to write more Jack/Replicarter. Although I am now tempted by Jack Sparrow/Replicarter....
Back at the beginning, when Jack O'Neill was first frozen into ice, Elizabeth had found herself watching Sam Carter more than normal. It didn't take her long to figure out why.
When Sam Carter is focused on something, there is very little to distract her.
Except sex.
It came as a surprise to find that she liked to surprise Sam in her lab. Liked to slide her hands down the front of her pants and stroke her.
In the beginning, it was all new and shiny, and Sam would come with startling quickness that bespoke too many years alone.
Or not enough time spent with a vibrator.
The first time Sam Carter kissed her, there was a desperation to it that Elizabeth chose to ignore.
It's hard to remember, sometimes, when they're curled up on the cot in Sam's lab (the camera has always been faulty in there, and security knows better than to fix it), what it was like to be alone.
Sam knows how to make her come fast, and rarely tries to be slow. And Elizabeth understands why, even if she doesn't talk about it. She's simply grateful to have this woman, in her arms, now. Or maybe she's deluding them both.
Sometimes, Sam almost seems to forget she's there, arches back and cries out a strangled sound that should have been a name.
Listening closely isn't an option.
But now things are coming to an inevitable end. Elizabeth can feel her allegiances pulling her back to Simon, to something that isn't fingers in the dark and no whispered words of comfort.
She isn't sure she's ready for that, yet.
=-=-=-=-
She holds a fascination for him. Which shouldn't surprise him since the woman who is her template has always held a certain strange fascination for him.
There are times when he watches Colonel Carter, and then he goes home. And she is there. And he knows that it isn't the Colonel, but that doesn't matter because the Colonel lacks some of the vibrancy that she displays.
Lacks other things, too. Skin that chitters when he's asleep, a tongue that can walk down his throat (that's nothing but a nightmare, dear).
On some level, he definitely knows there's something seriously wrong, here.
But he doesn't care.
Really, doesn't care. As long as she keeps coming to him, he'll live with it.
He just has to get used to seeing her smile at him on base.
-0=-=-
"This ain't no yellow submarine."
"Oh, come off it, Paul, nothin's good enough to be a damned yellow submarine."
George rolled his eyes. "Ringo, do you ever get the feeling we're superfluous?"
"Yeah. Then I remember that ring business."
The walls glowed with something that could have been inner fire. George might have chalked it up to really good acid if he hadn't touched them, seen the way the little robots moved around.
"How'd we get here, anyway?"
"D'no."
"Aw, christ." John took a drag on his cigarette and stuck his pinkies in the air. "Who cares? She's beautiful."
"Get a bloody room."
"With this ship?" A cackling sound came from John. "Sounds like a plan, me boys." And he smirked.
"Great." George muttered. "Another plan."
=--=-=-
"The strong will always abuse the weak."
Wise words, spoken with a soft understanding. He finds himself turning (turning, turning, round the rosemary bush chasing a weasel named Harvey), gazing at the man.
Rich honey-brown hair, a gentle smile. "I've heard it said that even the greatest Jedi among us will fall to abuse in the end."
"That's a lie." (always a lie, never the truth will set you free) Stark says, his hand coming up. A flinch. "My mask. Have you seen it?"
"You do not need it here."
"I always need it, it regulates--" (percolates, evaporates, these are a few of my favorite things) breathing hard. Breathing soft. "Where am I?"
"Truly intelligent men never need to be told, but I'm not as wise as they."
"You don't know."
"Neither do you."
"Serenity is a lie." He grabs the mask (it wasn't there again today, I guess that man won't go away) and throws it. "Don't need it, never want it--"
"Hush." Arms. Gentle hands stroking his hair. "It's all right."
I thought we were alone? "Who are you?"
"My name is Ben."
"Stark." Incomprehension.
"Welcome."
=-=-=-
She tasted different. He didn't think about it until later, when her hand was inside his skull. But she tasted different.
When he first kissed his way down her body and delved between her legs, Pete Shanahan heard the sounds he was used to, felt the flesh he was used to. And didn't get disturbed at the slightly metallic aftertaste until (again) her hand was inside his skull.
He should have known better than to date a woman like Sam Carter. Baggage in her past, evil in her present, god knew what in her future.
But right now, with the hand inside his skull, Pete's really not thinking of much. Except, maybe, if he'll live.
=-=-=-=-
Blue limbs tangled with pale white. She stares down, trying to understand if she begins or if Zhaan ends, here in Unity. She likes to think it's neither.
"You think too much."
"Amusement always was your refuge."
"Child, I like to think of it as truth."
There is no truth here, but she lets that pass, turns and lets that all-encompassing mind wrap hers and drag it under again. Slim fingers dance along blue skin, and mouths meet.
"John Crichton once told me this was like having a never-ending orgasm."
Cally thinks he's wrong.
"I don't know," fingers trail across breasts that ache and twinge and demand attention. "Maybe he is always right." Lips descend. "And you are always wrong."
Half-light, strange existance that begins and ends in marble halls. Cally likes to think it's the afterlife.
"Please, Unity is only a state of being."
And the sex. "It's a metaphor."
"The little death of life."
"Again and again."
"How many times have you died on this road to salvation?"
"Too many."
Fingers and lips, again, alabaster skin (and poetic creativity was more Vila's strong suit, but she doesn't have a necklace of his teeth to remember him by).
"Don't fight me, dear."
Never ever going down.
"I blew up. Blake."
"He lost, he's dead, no one won. No one ever wins."
There is certainty.
"You lie."
And then there is truth.
=-=-
Siler/RepliCarter
Moya/The Beatles
Stark/Obi-Wan
Replicarter/Pete Shanahan
Cally/Zhaan
Elly, honey, I refuse to write more Jack/Replicarter. Although I am now tempted by Jack Sparrow/Replicarter....
Back at the beginning, when Jack O'Neill was first frozen into ice, Elizabeth had found herself watching Sam Carter more than normal. It didn't take her long to figure out why.
When Sam Carter is focused on something, there is very little to distract her.
Except sex.
It came as a surprise to find that she liked to surprise Sam in her lab. Liked to slide her hands down the front of her pants and stroke her.
In the beginning, it was all new and shiny, and Sam would come with startling quickness that bespoke too many years alone.
Or not enough time spent with a vibrator.
The first time Sam Carter kissed her, there was a desperation to it that Elizabeth chose to ignore.
It's hard to remember, sometimes, when they're curled up on the cot in Sam's lab (the camera has always been faulty in there, and security knows better than to fix it), what it was like to be alone.
Sam knows how to make her come fast, and rarely tries to be slow. And Elizabeth understands why, even if she doesn't talk about it. She's simply grateful to have this woman, in her arms, now. Or maybe she's deluding them both.
Sometimes, Sam almost seems to forget she's there, arches back and cries out a strangled sound that should have been a name.
Listening closely isn't an option.
But now things are coming to an inevitable end. Elizabeth can feel her allegiances pulling her back to Simon, to something that isn't fingers in the dark and no whispered words of comfort.
She isn't sure she's ready for that, yet.
=-=-=-=-
She holds a fascination for him. Which shouldn't surprise him since the woman who is her template has always held a certain strange fascination for him.
There are times when he watches Colonel Carter, and then he goes home. And she is there. And he knows that it isn't the Colonel, but that doesn't matter because the Colonel lacks some of the vibrancy that she displays.
Lacks other things, too. Skin that chitters when he's asleep, a tongue that can walk down his throat (that's nothing but a nightmare, dear).
On some level, he definitely knows there's something seriously wrong, here.
But he doesn't care.
Really, doesn't care. As long as she keeps coming to him, he'll live with it.
He just has to get used to seeing her smile at him on base.
-0=-=-
"This ain't no yellow submarine."
"Oh, come off it, Paul, nothin's good enough to be a damned yellow submarine."
George rolled his eyes. "Ringo, do you ever get the feeling we're superfluous?"
"Yeah. Then I remember that ring business."
The walls glowed with something that could have been inner fire. George might have chalked it up to really good acid if he hadn't touched them, seen the way the little robots moved around.
"How'd we get here, anyway?"
"D'no."
"Aw, christ." John took a drag on his cigarette and stuck his pinkies in the air. "Who cares? She's beautiful."
"Get a bloody room."
"With this ship?" A cackling sound came from John. "Sounds like a plan, me boys." And he smirked.
"Great." George muttered. "Another plan."
=--=-=-
"The strong will always abuse the weak."
Wise words, spoken with a soft understanding. He finds himself turning (turning, turning, round the rosemary bush chasing a weasel named Harvey), gazing at the man.
Rich honey-brown hair, a gentle smile. "I've heard it said that even the greatest Jedi among us will fall to abuse in the end."
"That's a lie." (always a lie, never the truth will set you free) Stark says, his hand coming up. A flinch. "My mask. Have you seen it?"
"You do not need it here."
"I always need it, it regulates--" (percolates, evaporates, these are a few of my favorite things) breathing hard. Breathing soft. "Where am I?"
"Truly intelligent men never need to be told, but I'm not as wise as they."
"You don't know."
"Neither do you."
"Serenity is a lie." He grabs the mask (it wasn't there again today, I guess that man won't go away) and throws it. "Don't need it, never want it--"
"Hush." Arms. Gentle hands stroking his hair. "It's all right."
I thought we were alone? "Who are you?"
"My name is Ben."
"Stark." Incomprehension.
"Welcome."
=-=-=-
She tasted different. He didn't think about it until later, when her hand was inside his skull. But she tasted different.
When he first kissed his way down her body and delved between her legs, Pete Shanahan heard the sounds he was used to, felt the flesh he was used to. And didn't get disturbed at the slightly metallic aftertaste until (again) her hand was inside his skull.
He should have known better than to date a woman like Sam Carter. Baggage in her past, evil in her present, god knew what in her future.
But right now, with the hand inside his skull, Pete's really not thinking of much. Except, maybe, if he'll live.
=-=-=-=-
Blue limbs tangled with pale white. She stares down, trying to understand if she begins or if Zhaan ends, here in Unity. She likes to think it's neither.
"You think too much."
"Amusement always was your refuge."
"Child, I like to think of it as truth."
There is no truth here, but she lets that pass, turns and lets that all-encompassing mind wrap hers and drag it under again. Slim fingers dance along blue skin, and mouths meet.
"John Crichton once told me this was like having a never-ending orgasm."
Cally thinks he's wrong.
"I don't know," fingers trail across breasts that ache and twinge and demand attention. "Maybe he is always right." Lips descend. "And you are always wrong."
Half-light, strange existance that begins and ends in marble halls. Cally likes to think it's the afterlife.
"Please, Unity is only a state of being."
And the sex. "It's a metaphor."
"The little death of life."
"Again and again."
"How many times have you died on this road to salvation?"
"Too many."
Fingers and lips, again, alabaster skin (and poetic creativity was more Vila's strong suit, but she doesn't have a necklace of his teeth to remember him by).
"Don't fight me, dear."
Never ever going down.
"I blew up. Blake."
"He lost, he's dead, no one won. No one ever wins."
There is certainty.
"You lie."
And then there is truth.
=-=-
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But, mmm, Siler/RepliCarter! Yay! He'd totally be into a robot-Carter. He would. *nods firmly*
Lovely as usual. :)
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And it must be a sign of election jitters, but Beatles/Moya is the most brilliant thing ever. There must be more...
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Erm. I get to go home soon. My brain might not work anymore....
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*Checks his room for cameras*
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MORE!
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I really don't have any brain left right now...
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I just want a bigger story when the mood hits. :)
I love your porn anyways... ;)
so it's a MORE! in a general sense when it becomes available. ;)
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And my brain is beginning to recover.
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Moya/The Beatles
*cracks up* theirloveissoanacidtrip
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And... RepliCarter is... weird and strange, and I love her, but... She does strange things to my brain.
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