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Entry tags:
porn... 2 for 1...
Sam/Jack
Domino/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
SCAM: SG-1, Sam/Jack
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R/NC17. Spoilers: None, as far as I know. Um. That Sam and Jack exist? Set: Probably season 5. Assumes current relationship.
Notes: I'm about to fall into bed, but this was... something that's been waiting to be finished.
Snagged
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
"Covers."
The word meant little to Sam Carter in the half-awake state she was in, and so she didn't really respond.
An insistent tug at the blankets wrapped in one fist drew her onto her back, and she blinked. "Hrm?"
"Cold."
"Mm."
She really wasn't awake yet, and so she didn't notice the smirk on his face until he had slid a hand underneath the covers and found a nipple to tweak. "Jack!" The word came out a half-squawk.
"Cover thief." His voice was husky with sleep and amusement.
"Am not." She mumbled, trying to writhe away from the still fondling hand.
"Nuh-uh. Are." The hand shifted, firmly dragging its fingers down her torso. It paused to massage the left upper thigh.
Now she was awake. Because the hand of Jack O'Neill was touching her. In the beginning, she'd thought it would wear off. That once they'd started having sex, his touch wouldn't affect her a whole lot. That, maybe, it was because it was forbidden that it was so incredible. So far, his touch still made her pulse race and her breath catch, and her mind turn everything into sex.
This, she could handle. "Jack."
A slightly different motion, and his fingers slid down to stroke just near where she really wanted them. "Hrm?"
"Don't tease."
The fingers stilled, and then moved up to push into her, one then two. A soft moan escaped her lips.
"I thought you were asleep."
They were moving so. very. slowly, she thought she'd hurt him. If, say, she was more awake. "Jack." Her breath caught as the fingers twitched, his thumb brushing her clitoris.
"Not sleeping, huh?"
"Shu--" The rest of her statement was lost in a whimper as her pulled his fingers away. "Hey."
He was wriggling around, moving, and seemed disinclined to answer her. A moment later, she figured out why as lips and tongue and stubble scraped across the sensitized skin of her thighs. "Hrm. You're definitely awake."
"Yes." Everything tingled in anticipation. She knew where this was going, just as she knew that if he were in the correct mood, he would drag it out, he would make her writhe and beg and demand. And she really didn't have the energy for that. "Jack."
"Be quiet."
Taking the words for an order, she choked down the sounds that wanted to escape as he proceeded to kiss and lick and nip at her inner thighs and labia. And then he slid his tongue inside of her, causing her hips to buck.
Rough stubble, warm tongue, and she wondered if she were half insane for trying to breathe through her nostrils.
He wasn't taking his time, this time, as if he had sensed her need. In a shorter time than she'd expected, she felt the tension building, and pushed against him, begging as her hands tightened in the sheets and sweat broke out on her exposed skin.
Quicker, his tongue laps at her and his fingers come back to slide in and out, and she was wet and slick before thanks to him, and now is better.
She came, her back arching, her mouth open, as if to allow the sound to escape, but he told her to be silent, and so she was.
Harsh cold air dragged across her sweat-damp skin, and she slowly noticed that he was curling next to her again, smug smile on his lips. "Jack..."
"You're still a blanket thief."
"I," she said with the dignity of a woman who has just been fingered and tongued to a quick and dirty orgasm, "Am NOT a blanket thief."
His fingers slid down to dip into her, and she jumped. "Yes you are."
"Go to sleep, Jack."
"Share the blankets, Carter."
"No." But she was beginning to slip back into sleep again, and she was cold, and he was warm... she pulled the blankets over the both of them, tangling her fingers into his. "Fine."
His lips smirked into her shoulder. "Knew you'd see reason."
-f-
--------------------------------------------
SCAM: X-Men, Domino/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Set: Eh. Current continuity, I suppose.
Rating: R/NC17.
Notes: For Timey. I sleep now.
In the Thick of Things
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
It started with a kiss.
At least, if Domino had been paying attention (or had asked), she would have known this. As it was, she didn't know it. Didn't know anything about the bar brawl that had started when two girlfriends kissed. Not until it fell across her table, spilling her tequila. Without really looking, she reached out and grabbed one collar. "Hey."
Someone took a swing at her, and Domino found herself in the middle of milling bodies. Arms and feet and fists. She dealt with them, snapping at least two wrists and breaking five noses before she ended up on the sidelines. Which gave her the opportunity to observe the form of the blond man who'd been sitting at the bar when this all began.
Clint Barton didn't know about the kiss, either, but he figured all was fair in love and bar brawls.
And he needed some tension relief after his recent run-in with Natasha. Old flames always did bad things to him. Maybe Steve's angst-capabilities were rubbing off on him.
Sadly, the brawl was over almost before it began. Clint definitely wasn't relaxed yet. He grumbled internally as the combatants were pushed out into the street where a group of cops began indiscriminately breaking them up using clubs.
"Hey."
A hand snagged his wrist, tugging him to one side and down the block into an alley. He eyed the brunette with vague interest. "Thanks. I guess."
She shrugged. "Figured you wouldn't want to get sent to jail." Her lips twisted into a sardonic smirk. "What with being a card-carrying Avenger and all."
He eyed her, trying to place the violet eyes and dark patch of skin around one of them. "Oh. God, it's you."
"Me?"
"You." He sighed and stepped back. "I've heard lots about you from Natasha."
"That girl talks too damn much in her sleep."
He smirked, "So she does."
The brunette fluttered her lashes, "Wanna buy a girl a drink, since her other one got knocked off her table?"
"Going to try corrupting me?"
"If Natasha's right, you don't need any."
"C'mon," he stepped closer to her, smirking, "I'm sure we can find better things to do than drink ourselves stupid.
Her eyebrow arched, "You offering to make an honest woman of me?"
"Only if you get pregnant."
She snorted again, "Got any place in mind, or should we just fuck against the wall?"
"Well, when you put it like that," he leaned in, pushing her against the wall, and kissed her. He knew this was strange and weird, but he'd been in a fight, and his blood was still dancing and she was right here.
Her lips were cold for a moment, and then they warmed up.
Abruptly, he pulled back.
"Going too fast for you, Avenger-boy?"
"No." He reached out and touched her cheek. "I just prefer a better venue."
"Ah. That hotel room?"
"Mmm."
-=-
Gravel was crunching under his feet (though not hers, he noticed) when she paused. "I thought we were heading for a hotel?" This was the fourth rooftop they'd traversed, and he wasn't strained yet, but he hadn't been, well, planning on this sort of activity.
A snicker reached him across the rooftop and she looked back, her pale skin flashing light in the shadows. "We are."
"Taking the scenic route?"
"You could say that." She had moved, sidling closer to him.
Automatically, his hands reached for her to find that she was reaching for him. She laughed again. "So predictable."
He shrugged and tugged her against him. "If you say so."
Domino rubbed herself against him, snaking her arms around his neck. "Definitely."
He caught her waist in his hands and held her there. As his brain began assimilating the way she felt and the fact that there was a lithe and beautiful woman grinding slowly against him, Clint tried to remember that he had wanted a bed.
Of course, the rooftop was beginning to look more and more comfortable.
Then they were kissing, and Clint was seriously reconsidering waiting until they found a bed. He wasn't, after all, that old. The only objection, he decided hazily as her hand slid down the front of his pants, was the gravel.
Her hand knew exactly what it was doing, and so he groaned and pulled back. "We need--"
"Platform." She panted, and he found both of his hands under her shirt, stroking the cool flesh. "Ten feet -- behind..."
Platform. Right. Some part of his brain prodded. "Bed?"
Her hand tightened on him. "Platform."
"Definitely."
The way to the platform was paved with groping and kissing and Clint sliding his hand down the back of her pants. She lost her shirt, at some point, and he picked her up and nuzzled her breasts before setting her down on the raised buttress of concrete and proceeding to kiss and lick every inch of the skin he could reach. And he could reach a *lot*. She was very limber, and contributed, sliding her hands and lips and tongue here and there until he thought he'd go insane from the feel of her.
Somehow, they got undressed enough. Somehow, he rolled onto his back, and she straddled him. And then, GOD, but he wasn't thinking about anything except the way she felt and the way she looked and the way she moved. His hands reached up for her, running across her pale skin.
Apparently, fights made her very horny, because she came very quickly, grinding down onto him and giving a little panting gasp when he bit down on a nipple that was suddenly presented in the vicinity of his lips.
Then she flicked her fingers against his chest, and he re-established a rhythm. This time, he pulled her down, kissing and then rolling them until her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he could *feel* her teeth around his tongue, but she wasn't quite biting, not yet.
Fights made him horny, too.
The energy which had pushed her against a wall in an alley broke over him, and he gave a cry as he exploded, sweat slipping down his face and back from the effort.
He sagged down onto her, getting his breath under control.
A soft laugh echoed around them. "I guess that hotel room's out?"
"No." He licked at the damp skin between her breasts. "I'm just getting started."
"Good -- fuck." Her breath exited on a whimper as his fingers slid into her. "That's very -- good."
"Thank you." He smirked and began sucking at first one nipple and then the other, fingers moving in and out of her in a lazy, slow movement.
Her body spasmed around him, and then he had the pleasure (no pun intended) of watching her orgasm again, her eyes wide, her mouth open. This time, a string of obscenities rippled across the rooftop, but he didn't care. She was strangely beautiful in this state.
"Well," he said as she relaxed, "I think we should retire to the hotel."
"I don't know," she smirked, "This could be the start of a brand new friendship."
"With benefits?"
"Hrm." She purred at him as he stood and began pulling his clothes back on. "Could be."
-f-
Domino/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
SCAM: SG-1, Sam/Jack
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R/NC17. Spoilers: None, as far as I know. Um. That Sam and Jack exist? Set: Probably season 5. Assumes current relationship.
Notes: I'm about to fall into bed, but this was... something that's been waiting to be finished.
Snagged
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
"Covers."
The word meant little to Sam Carter in the half-awake state she was in, and so she didn't really respond.
An insistent tug at the blankets wrapped in one fist drew her onto her back, and she blinked. "Hrm?"
"Cold."
"Mm."
She really wasn't awake yet, and so she didn't notice the smirk on his face until he had slid a hand underneath the covers and found a nipple to tweak. "Jack!" The word came out a half-squawk.
"Cover thief." His voice was husky with sleep and amusement.
"Am not." She mumbled, trying to writhe away from the still fondling hand.
"Nuh-uh. Are." The hand shifted, firmly dragging its fingers down her torso. It paused to massage the left upper thigh.
Now she was awake. Because the hand of Jack O'Neill was touching her. In the beginning, she'd thought it would wear off. That once they'd started having sex, his touch wouldn't affect her a whole lot. That, maybe, it was because it was forbidden that it was so incredible. So far, his touch still made her pulse race and her breath catch, and her mind turn everything into sex.
This, she could handle. "Jack."
A slightly different motion, and his fingers slid down to stroke just near where she really wanted them. "Hrm?"
"Don't tease."
The fingers stilled, and then moved up to push into her, one then two. A soft moan escaped her lips.
"I thought you were asleep."
They were moving so. very. slowly, she thought she'd hurt him. If, say, she was more awake. "Jack." Her breath caught as the fingers twitched, his thumb brushing her clitoris.
"Not sleeping, huh?"
"Shu--" The rest of her statement was lost in a whimper as her pulled his fingers away. "Hey."
He was wriggling around, moving, and seemed disinclined to answer her. A moment later, she figured out why as lips and tongue and stubble scraped across the sensitized skin of her thighs. "Hrm. You're definitely awake."
"Yes." Everything tingled in anticipation. She knew where this was going, just as she knew that if he were in the correct mood, he would drag it out, he would make her writhe and beg and demand. And she really didn't have the energy for that. "Jack."
"Be quiet."
Taking the words for an order, she choked down the sounds that wanted to escape as he proceeded to kiss and lick and nip at her inner thighs and labia. And then he slid his tongue inside of her, causing her hips to buck.
Rough stubble, warm tongue, and she wondered if she were half insane for trying to breathe through her nostrils.
He wasn't taking his time, this time, as if he had sensed her need. In a shorter time than she'd expected, she felt the tension building, and pushed against him, begging as her hands tightened in the sheets and sweat broke out on her exposed skin.
Quicker, his tongue laps at her and his fingers come back to slide in and out, and she was wet and slick before thanks to him, and now is better.
She came, her back arching, her mouth open, as if to allow the sound to escape, but he told her to be silent, and so she was.
Harsh cold air dragged across her sweat-damp skin, and she slowly noticed that he was curling next to her again, smug smile on his lips. "Jack..."
"You're still a blanket thief."
"I," she said with the dignity of a woman who has just been fingered and tongued to a quick and dirty orgasm, "Am NOT a blanket thief."
His fingers slid down to dip into her, and she jumped. "Yes you are."
"Go to sleep, Jack."
"Share the blankets, Carter."
"No." But she was beginning to slip back into sleep again, and she was cold, and he was warm... she pulled the blankets over the both of them, tangling her fingers into his. "Fine."
His lips smirked into her shoulder. "Knew you'd see reason."
-f-
--------------------------------------------
SCAM: X-Men, Domino/Clint Barton (Hawkeye)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Set: Eh. Current continuity, I suppose.
Rating: R/NC17.
Notes: For Timey. I sleep now.
In the Thick of Things
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
It started with a kiss.
At least, if Domino had been paying attention (or had asked), she would have known this. As it was, she didn't know it. Didn't know anything about the bar brawl that had started when two girlfriends kissed. Not until it fell across her table, spilling her tequila. Without really looking, she reached out and grabbed one collar. "Hey."
Someone took a swing at her, and Domino found herself in the middle of milling bodies. Arms and feet and fists. She dealt with them, snapping at least two wrists and breaking five noses before she ended up on the sidelines. Which gave her the opportunity to observe the form of the blond man who'd been sitting at the bar when this all began.
Clint Barton didn't know about the kiss, either, but he figured all was fair in love and bar brawls.
And he needed some tension relief after his recent run-in with Natasha. Old flames always did bad things to him. Maybe Steve's angst-capabilities were rubbing off on him.
Sadly, the brawl was over almost before it began. Clint definitely wasn't relaxed yet. He grumbled internally as the combatants were pushed out into the street where a group of cops began indiscriminately breaking them up using clubs.
"Hey."
A hand snagged his wrist, tugging him to one side and down the block into an alley. He eyed the brunette with vague interest. "Thanks. I guess."
She shrugged. "Figured you wouldn't want to get sent to jail." Her lips twisted into a sardonic smirk. "What with being a card-carrying Avenger and all."
He eyed her, trying to place the violet eyes and dark patch of skin around one of them. "Oh. God, it's you."
"Me?"
"You." He sighed and stepped back. "I've heard lots about you from Natasha."
"That girl talks too damn much in her sleep."
He smirked, "So she does."
The brunette fluttered her lashes, "Wanna buy a girl a drink, since her other one got knocked off her table?"
"Going to try corrupting me?"
"If Natasha's right, you don't need any."
"C'mon," he stepped closer to her, smirking, "I'm sure we can find better things to do than drink ourselves stupid.
Her eyebrow arched, "You offering to make an honest woman of me?"
"Only if you get pregnant."
She snorted again, "Got any place in mind, or should we just fuck against the wall?"
"Well, when you put it like that," he leaned in, pushing her against the wall, and kissed her. He knew this was strange and weird, but he'd been in a fight, and his blood was still dancing and she was right here.
Her lips were cold for a moment, and then they warmed up.
Abruptly, he pulled back.
"Going too fast for you, Avenger-boy?"
"No." He reached out and touched her cheek. "I just prefer a better venue."
"Ah. That hotel room?"
"Mmm."
-=-
Gravel was crunching under his feet (though not hers, he noticed) when she paused. "I thought we were heading for a hotel?" This was the fourth rooftop they'd traversed, and he wasn't strained yet, but he hadn't been, well, planning on this sort of activity.
A snicker reached him across the rooftop and she looked back, her pale skin flashing light in the shadows. "We are."
"Taking the scenic route?"
"You could say that." She had moved, sidling closer to him.
Automatically, his hands reached for her to find that she was reaching for him. She laughed again. "So predictable."
He shrugged and tugged her against him. "If you say so."
Domino rubbed herself against him, snaking her arms around his neck. "Definitely."
He caught her waist in his hands and held her there. As his brain began assimilating the way she felt and the fact that there was a lithe and beautiful woman grinding slowly against him, Clint tried to remember that he had wanted a bed.
Of course, the rooftop was beginning to look more and more comfortable.
Then they were kissing, and Clint was seriously reconsidering waiting until they found a bed. He wasn't, after all, that old. The only objection, he decided hazily as her hand slid down the front of his pants, was the gravel.
Her hand knew exactly what it was doing, and so he groaned and pulled back. "We need--"
"Platform." She panted, and he found both of his hands under her shirt, stroking the cool flesh. "Ten feet -- behind..."
Platform. Right. Some part of his brain prodded. "Bed?"
Her hand tightened on him. "Platform."
"Definitely."
The way to the platform was paved with groping and kissing and Clint sliding his hand down the back of her pants. She lost her shirt, at some point, and he picked her up and nuzzled her breasts before setting her down on the raised buttress of concrete and proceeding to kiss and lick every inch of the skin he could reach. And he could reach a *lot*. She was very limber, and contributed, sliding her hands and lips and tongue here and there until he thought he'd go insane from the feel of her.
Somehow, they got undressed enough. Somehow, he rolled onto his back, and she straddled him. And then, GOD, but he wasn't thinking about anything except the way she felt and the way she looked and the way she moved. His hands reached up for her, running across her pale skin.
Apparently, fights made her very horny, because she came very quickly, grinding down onto him and giving a little panting gasp when he bit down on a nipple that was suddenly presented in the vicinity of his lips.
Then she flicked her fingers against his chest, and he re-established a rhythm. This time, he pulled her down, kissing and then rolling them until her legs were wrapped around his waist, and he could *feel* her teeth around his tongue, but she wasn't quite biting, not yet.
Fights made him horny, too.
The energy which had pushed her against a wall in an alley broke over him, and he gave a cry as he exploded, sweat slipping down his face and back from the effort.
He sagged down onto her, getting his breath under control.
A soft laugh echoed around them. "I guess that hotel room's out?"
"No." He licked at the damp skin between her breasts. "I'm just getting started."
"Good -- fuck." Her breath exited on a whimper as his fingers slid into her. "That's very -- good."
"Thank you." He smirked and began sucking at first one nipple and then the other, fingers moving in and out of her in a lazy, slow movement.
Her body spasmed around him, and then he had the pleasure (no pun intended) of watching her orgasm again, her eyes wide, her mouth open. This time, a string of obscenities rippled across the rooftop, but he didn't care. She was strangely beautiful in this state.
"Well," he said as she relaxed, "I think we should retire to the hotel."
"I don't know," she smirked, "This could be the start of a brand new friendship."
"With benefits?"
"Hrm." She purred at him as he stood and began pulling his clothes back on. "Could be."
-f-
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Seriously, between you and Elly, my brain doesn't stand a chance.
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...other couple, no clue who they are, but HOT HOT HOTNESS! :licks:
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Yum. I would love to see more of this.
Whee!
You know, it's a good thing I don't write femslash, or I'd have to do the Dom/Natasha prequel to thast... *snickers some more*
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My brain doesn't stand a chance....
And this was supposed to be something completely different about how they're difficult to sleep with because they're both used to being alone, but... I got sidetracked and wrote porn instead.
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I should make you read the Domino LS. You would like her. *smirk*
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Re: Whee!
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*pause* Brian Stelfreeze = God.
But it's an amusing read... ;)
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