misaffection (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misaffection) wrote2011-02-13 12:04 pm
misaffection) wrote2011-02-13 12:04 pm
Entry tags:
No Going Back | Stargate SG1: Baal/Sam
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Sam Carter/Baal
Pairing: Baal/Sam
Rating: FRT
Written for:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sg_15_fics
Prompt: #15 Contact
Word Count: 1,280
Trial by Goa'uld | Lorem Ipsum | Oscillation
Sam flinches when Baal enters the lab, feels heat rise in her cheeks. She can't stop thinking about what she did just hours before, can't forget bringing herself off with his face against her closed eyelids. It's stupid, but she thinks he might know.
“So, what's on the menu for today?” he asks and she startles, tongue tangling over a sensible response. He stares at her. “What's wrong with you?”
“Huh?”
Okay, that wasn't the most intelligent utterance she's ever come out with, but her brain is broken. His response is for the second eyebrow to join the first high on his forehead.
“Have you impacted your head on something solid?” He comes closer and she jerks back. “Are you unwell?”
“No, just...” She casts for a reasonable explanation but fails, because there isn't one. “Leave me alone.”
Baal lifts both hands and takes a step back. “Fine, whatever you wish.”
She watches him move away and distract himself by looking over naquadah generator sat on her bench. Guilt twinges, even though her state of mind is mostly his fault, and she heaves a sigh.
“I'm... sorry. I had a rough night.”
He glances up. “Bad dreams?” An eyebrow wings when she doesn't answer. “Good ones?”
She knows it's a guess, that he's just trying to wind her up, but he's too close to the mark and she blushes. Throws him a look.
“Never you mind.”
Baal's eyes light up. “Oh, really? What have you been dreaming about, Samantha? Or should I be inquiring whom?”
“Don't you have something better to do?” she snaps, desperate. His grin just widens.
“Right now, absolutely not. I'm intrigued. Yesterday...” He trails off and his eyes go distant. Then sharpen again as the corner of his mouth lifts. “I caught you reading my journal. I know what I'd written in those pages, Samantha. Especially...” He closes in again and drains the oxygen from the air. Or so it seems as she struggles to breathe. “Especially those passages pertaining to you.”
“I didn't...” Her chest is tight and she can't tear her eyes from his. “I didn't read those.”
A soft chuckle warms her face and his eyes sparkle. “Liar,” he breathes. “And do you know what else?”
She shakes her head, still not breaking eye contact. He tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, a slow caress of the shell that makes her shiver.
And she knows that she shouldn't ask, but does it anyway, “What?”
“That wasn't the half of it.”
There is just long enough to inhale sharply, just long enough to know what he's going to do before he does it. Her eyelids flutter shut at the first brush of his lips, her hands tightening on the armrests as he presses closer, firmer, teases her lips apart.
Her mind is in free-fall, her groin is on fire and she wants so badly that she thinks that she might die of it. A moan wrenches up from her stomach and he breaks away.
“No,” she breathes, denying the need for space. She wants him closer, damn it. “Don't-”
Stop. She only thinks it, but her right hand shifts from the chair to his shoulder without thought, hangs on and pulls him back. And she whispers, moans, “Please” before angling her head.
An agony of want flares painful heat between her legs. His tongue dances over hers and she whimpers, fingers knotting on his shirt.
“The rest,” she gasps as his lips trail a blaze along her jaw. Her nipples stiffen and she arches towards him, carelessly wanton. “Tell me the rest.”
Damp heat sears her skin; the point of his tongue hard against the pulse point in her neck. He circles and circles and her every breath is short and sharp and her hand aches from gripping so tight and God but he's not even... not even...
His hands are on the armrests and she wants them elsewhere. She wants him to goddamm touch her, is aching for it, and he has to know that but is holding back.
“Baal.”
“Not-” His voice is rough, knuckles white. “Not here.”
“But-”
Brown eyes glitter with amusement as he pulls back, smirk in place. He shakes his head. “Samantha.” It's a purr that slides down her spine and she bites her bottom lip. “Anyone could walk in, anyone could see. And you really don't want that.”
His words are cold water, a harsh slice of reality that makes her jerk back in her seat. God, she was just kissing a Goa'uld, an enemy of Earth no matter what temporary arrangement he might have made. She cannot trust him. Shouldn't want him.
But she does.
“No,” she agrees and drags a shaking hand through her hair. He shrugs his eyebrows and folds his arms, smirks down at her. “So let's go somewhere else.”
She surprises him, she thinks, since his eyes widen and he blinks. But he recovers quick enough and the half smile broadens, perfect teeth bright against his tanned skin.
Then his head tilts and he lifts a hand, one finger raised. “Wait,” he says and she stills, butt on the edge of the chair. He gazes at her, then continues, “Are you sure, Samantha? There is no going back, after all.”
Sam drops her gaze to the floor – she can't think straight when she's looking at him – and breathes out. In. Orders her confused emotions.
And what she realises is that he is right: if she leaves with him now, nothing will be the same. On the other hand... on the other hand, she's already halfway there. Dreams and fantasies. She huffs a laugh. So much of her life has been that and she's tired of it.
“I know.” She lifts her eyes back to his. “But... can I trust you?”
He smirks. “Hell no.”
She startles and then laughs again. “Nothing like honesty, I suppose.”
“I hear it is the best policy in these matters.”
“In most,” she agrees. Her heart is pounding as she pushes up and stands. No going back. “You know what I mean.”
For once his expression is serious, his gaze steady. “I know.”
She nods. Closes the gap. It's thrilling, exhilarating. Terrifying. It's probably also been inevitable from the beginning.
Halting a mere inch from him, she stares into his eyes. “So?”
“If I said yes, would you?”
“Yes,” she says, and means it. “Despite everything, yes.”
He brushes her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I think that this time,” he says, each word measured. “In this case, you can.”
“But in others...?” She grins at him, already knowing the answer.
“One at a time, Samantha. Who knows what would happen if I became totally reliable?”
She chuckles and winds her arms around his neck. “The world might end.”
“Indeed.”
This time she kisses him and he finally – finally – puts his hands on her. He grips her hips and it's almost tight enough to hurt and she becomes aware of how much control he's having to exert on himself. She smiles against his lips.
“Let's get out of here,” she suggests and he grins at her.
It's not what she supposed to be doing, but she's done that to death. This? This is for her, because it's what she wants to do.
Characters: Sam Carter/Baal
Pairing: Baal/Sam
Rating: FRT
Written for:
sg_15_ficsPrompt: #15 Contact
Word Count: 1,280
Trial by Goa'uld | Lorem Ipsum | Oscillation
Sam flinches when Baal enters the lab, feels heat rise in her cheeks. She can't stop thinking about what she did just hours before, can't forget bringing herself off with his face against her closed eyelids. It's stupid, but she thinks he might know.
“So, what's on the menu for today?” he asks and she startles, tongue tangling over a sensible response. He stares at her. “What's wrong with you?”
“Huh?”
Okay, that wasn't the most intelligent utterance she's ever come out with, but her brain is broken. His response is for the second eyebrow to join the first high on his forehead.
“Have you impacted your head on something solid?” He comes closer and she jerks back. “Are you unwell?”
“No, just...” She casts for a reasonable explanation but fails, because there isn't one. “Leave me alone.”
Baal lifts both hands and takes a step back. “Fine, whatever you wish.”
She watches him move away and distract himself by looking over naquadah generator sat on her bench. Guilt twinges, even though her state of mind is mostly his fault, and she heaves a sigh.
“I'm... sorry. I had a rough night.”
He glances up. “Bad dreams?” An eyebrow wings when she doesn't answer. “Good ones?”
She knows it's a guess, that he's just trying to wind her up, but he's too close to the mark and she blushes. Throws him a look.
“Never you mind.”
Baal's eyes light up. “Oh, really? What have you been dreaming about, Samantha? Or should I be inquiring whom?”
“Don't you have something better to do?” she snaps, desperate. His grin just widens.
“Right now, absolutely not. I'm intrigued. Yesterday...” He trails off and his eyes go distant. Then sharpen again as the corner of his mouth lifts. “I caught you reading my journal. I know what I'd written in those pages, Samantha. Especially...” He closes in again and drains the oxygen from the air. Or so it seems as she struggles to breathe. “Especially those passages pertaining to you.”
“I didn't...” Her chest is tight and she can't tear her eyes from his. “I didn't read those.”
A soft chuckle warms her face and his eyes sparkle. “Liar,” he breathes. “And do you know what else?”
She shakes her head, still not breaking eye contact. He tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, a slow caress of the shell that makes her shiver.
And she knows that she shouldn't ask, but does it anyway, “What?”
“That wasn't the half of it.”
There is just long enough to inhale sharply, just long enough to know what he's going to do before he does it. Her eyelids flutter shut at the first brush of his lips, her hands tightening on the armrests as he presses closer, firmer, teases her lips apart.
Her mind is in free-fall, her groin is on fire and she wants so badly that she thinks that she might die of it. A moan wrenches up from her stomach and he breaks away.
“No,” she breathes, denying the need for space. She wants him closer, damn it. “Don't-”
Stop. She only thinks it, but her right hand shifts from the chair to his shoulder without thought, hangs on and pulls him back. And she whispers, moans, “Please” before angling her head.
An agony of want flares painful heat between her legs. His tongue dances over hers and she whimpers, fingers knotting on his shirt.
“The rest,” she gasps as his lips trail a blaze along her jaw. Her nipples stiffen and she arches towards him, carelessly wanton. “Tell me the rest.”
Damp heat sears her skin; the point of his tongue hard against the pulse point in her neck. He circles and circles and her every breath is short and sharp and her hand aches from gripping so tight and God but he's not even... not even...
His hands are on the armrests and she wants them elsewhere. She wants him to goddamm touch her, is aching for it, and he has to know that but is holding back.
“Baal.”
“Not-” His voice is rough, knuckles white. “Not here.”
“But-”
Brown eyes glitter with amusement as he pulls back, smirk in place. He shakes his head. “Samantha.” It's a purr that slides down her spine and she bites her bottom lip. “Anyone could walk in, anyone could see. And you really don't want that.”
His words are cold water, a harsh slice of reality that makes her jerk back in her seat. God, she was just kissing a Goa'uld, an enemy of Earth no matter what temporary arrangement he might have made. She cannot trust him. Shouldn't want him.
But she does.
“No,” she agrees and drags a shaking hand through her hair. He shrugs his eyebrows and folds his arms, smirks down at her. “So let's go somewhere else.”
She surprises him, she thinks, since his eyes widen and he blinks. But he recovers quick enough and the half smile broadens, perfect teeth bright against his tanned skin.
Then his head tilts and he lifts a hand, one finger raised. “Wait,” he says and she stills, butt on the edge of the chair. He gazes at her, then continues, “Are you sure, Samantha? There is no going back, after all.”
Sam drops her gaze to the floor – she can't think straight when she's looking at him – and breathes out. In. Orders her confused emotions.
And what she realises is that he is right: if she leaves with him now, nothing will be the same. On the other hand... on the other hand, she's already halfway there. Dreams and fantasies. She huffs a laugh. So much of her life has been that and she's tired of it.
“I know.” She lifts her eyes back to his. “But... can I trust you?”
He smirks. “Hell no.”
She startles and then laughs again. “Nothing like honesty, I suppose.”
“I hear it is the best policy in these matters.”
“In most,” she agrees. Her heart is pounding as she pushes up and stands. No going back. “You know what I mean.”
For once his expression is serious, his gaze steady. “I know.”
She nods. Closes the gap. It's thrilling, exhilarating. Terrifying. It's probably also been inevitable from the beginning.
Halting a mere inch from him, she stares into his eyes. “So?”
“If I said yes, would you?”
“Yes,” she says, and means it. “Despite everything, yes.”
He brushes her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I think that this time,” he says, each word measured. “In this case, you can.”
“But in others...?” She grins at him, already knowing the answer.
“One at a time, Samantha. Who knows what would happen if I became totally reliable?”
She chuckles and winds her arms around his neck. “The world might end.”
“Indeed.”
This time she kisses him and he finally – finally – puts his hands on her. He grips her hips and it's almost tight enough to hurt and she becomes aware of how much control he's having to exert on himself. She smiles against his lips.
“Let's get out of here,” she suggests and he grins at her.
It's not what she supposed to be doing, but she's done that to death. This? This is for her, because it's what she wants to do.