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Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R. ish. Sex.
Set: Season one.
Notes: This one is all nos' fault.
Pairing: c'mon, guess already.
New-made Religion by ALC Punk! Colonel Jack O'Neill is fucking her against bricks. It should be raining, Sam thinks. She has no words to describe the feelings running through her brain, instead arching, head almost slamming into the wall. He manages a particularly hard thrust, and a sound escapes her that's halfway between a cry and a moan. Fingers dig into her hips, and she welcomes the pain. It's real. His eyes are closed, or maybe he's just trying not to think, too. "Sara..." His voice chokes off because she tightens around him, feeling the throb as he loses his control to her machinations. No answer. One last twist, and he's breaking against her, mouth open as he gasps, again. "Sara." She wonders if he hears himself, and then blocks the thought away. It doesn't matter, it can't matter, they're only doing this because he almost died and she almost died and Daniel did die (although he's better now), and Teal'c is still in the infirmary. He sags into her, and she touches the back of his neck, enjoying the feel of him. "I almost died." "Yes." His lips graze her throat. I'm not Sara. But she doesn't say it. She whimpers when his fingers slide into her, catching her off guard. The thoughts in her head scatter. And she didn't want to think about this anyway. Captain Sam Carter is perfectly capable of analyzing data from a hundred different sources, but she refuses to understand being fucked against an alley wall by her commanding officer. Even when that man isn't calling her by name. And she figures that's fitting as his fingers drive into her and her head slams into the wall again. He drags her shirt open, and a choking growl escapes her as his lips close on her nipple, teeth nibbling at it as his fingers find just *that* spot, and she finds herself falling. Falling, falling, and she can see the bullets twisting Daniel around, his arms not catching him when he falls. The tears on her face she refuses to acknowledge, just as she refuses to recognize his awkward kiss for what it is. An apology, a goodbye, a benediction. Maybe even his way of saying no, I don't love you. She doesn't love him, she thinks as he leaves her standing there in the alley. Pulling her skirt down, straightening her shirt, she wonders if love has any meaning anyway. -f- © 2005 ALC Punk! |