misaffection: (Default)
[personal profile] misaffection
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Baal, Sam
Pairing: Baal/Sam
Rating: FRM
Written for: [livejournal.com profile] 10_orders ("fall in love with me")
Word Count: 1,041

Series so far: Sticks and Stones, A Rock and a Hard Place, Recovery and Recalcitrance, The End of All This, Beings a New Age & Forget Me Nots and Second Thoughts


Sam arches, the name on her lips somewhere between a curse and a prayer. Baal knows he’ll take either and that he doesn’t care what that makes him. He slides in, feeling her walls clench around him as he pushes her higher, closer. Her rapid breathing echoes harshly, not that he’s panting much less and he doesn’t care about that either.

His symbiote is silent, keeping whatever it thinks or feels right now to itself. He would find the very little sense disconcerting if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. As distractions go, Sam is proving to be terribly effective.

He grinds in. Her nails dig in as she clutches at his shoulders, her lips parted in a low, throaty groan. Baal pauses and just looks at her – the blonde hair is in disarray, sweat sheens her pale skin, her cheeks and chest are flushed, and her nipples are taut pink buds. In short, she is glorious, and he can’t get close enough, can’t get in far enough.

He can’t say what he wants to, either. They haven’t spoken at all since he spirited her away, not in words beyond Sam and Baal and yes and please and fuck. Too much pain and need existed to talk about what this is.

“You were never my last resort.”

Her words reverberate through him. He bends to kiss her, because if he doesn’t then he might say something that he shouldn’t. He still thinks this is a bad idea, that she can’t give up everything for him, that he can’t let her. He knows they shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s not reformed enough to deny himself when she was so willing. Even if he was, he doubts he could have denied her.

“You’re holding back,” Sam says, startling him with this unexpected insight. He dismisses it with a smirk and, “Hardly.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Yes, you are. I can sense it. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.” He tries another smile and strokes her breast. “How could anything possibly be wrong?”

“I don’t know, but there is.” She gazes up and he avoids her eyes. “Baal, please.”

“If there is, then it’s not just down to me.”

Guilt flickers across her face. “No,” she sighs. “I don’t... This isn’t...” Her forehead furrows as she searches for words and courage. “I meant what I said before. I know this is crazy and everyone is against it and... and that maybe you don’t feel the same way, but I also know what I felt when I thought that you were... gone.”

The way her voice goes husky on the last word wrenches at Baal. He pushes hair off her face tenderly, still trying to work through the confliction of emotions that she stirs in him.

“It is that everyone is against it,” he admits finally. “I don’t want to force you into a choice, Sam.”

The desire inside him is fading, dampened by guilt. He’s torn between what he wants and what she needs. ‘What you think she needs,’ whispers a rasping voice but the presence is gone before he can grasp at it.

Sam’s expression still manages to reflect the irritation he briefly sensed. “It’s my choice, Baal. They will have to accept you’re being around eventually. Or not. That’s there choice,” she says with a smile. “Mine is you. Unless you don’t care about me.”

“Never!” It bursts from him before he can censure himself. His emotions are far too close to the surface, but then she is right – he is holding back. “I care for you deeply, Samantha,” he says and kisses her and the embers of his desire spark once more.

She nudges him away. “Then let me make my own decisions.”

He sighs. “Very well.”

“And start moving again.”

Baal laughs and does that. It only takes one thrust for the desire to come raging back and then he rams into her harder, faster, taking them both right to the edge and holding them there for a long, endless moment. Sam smiles and shifts one hand from his shoulder to stroke over his head.

He drives in and grinds down and her eyes screw shut. She gasps. Her fingers tighten in his hair. Then she clenches tight around him and he rides her waves over the edge and into bliss. Every thought scatters, every carefully constructed wall comes down. He is as raw and vulnerable as if she’d reached into his head and torn the symbiote from him.

“Sam.”

A shudder wracks him. He buries his face in her golden hair, breathes in the scent of cherry and sweat. Her fingers stroke his hair. Her chest heaves against his. After a moment, he realises her breathing matches his. Their hearts are beating to time as well.

Pushing up onto one elbow, he looks down at her. She gives a breathless laugh and shakes her head. Emotion swamps, pure and bright and blinding. “Fall in love with me,” he begs her, needing her to feel as strongly as he does.

Sam shakes her head again, a gentle smile on her lips. “Can’t,” she says between quick breaths. He jolts and she touches his cheek. “Because I already have.”

Tension shatters its creeping grip and he laughs, a little ruefully. “You panicked me there a moment.”

“Good.” She shoves him and he collapses to the bed, sated and... happy. Yes, that: happy. “Can’t have you thinking that you know everything now, can I?”

She snuggles against him. Baal reaches down and finds the blanket. He draws it over them both and then drapes one proprietary arm over her hip. “Apparently not.” He kisses the top of her head. “And I suppose that it’s only fair to admit that I am similarly affected.”

The reaction he expected doesn’t materialise. He pulls back and looks down, then rolls his eyes when he realises that she’s already asleep. He gives a hard-done-by sigh and settles back down. Sam’s soft, slow breaths warm his chest. Despite her untimely slumber, he can’t find it in himself to be annoyed at her, not given the emotional rollercoaster she’s experienced.

“Sleep, my love,” he says and then closes his eyes to let his own need for rest to claim him.

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