fic: het Dean/Sam Carter, crossover
Hey, seanchaidh! It's a Dean/Sam you can read!
Comment fic I wrote for chelle's Get Sam Carter laid challenge.
Title: Start your engines
Pairing: Sam Carter/Dean Winchester
Crossover: Stargate/Supernatural
Rating: NC-17 for pwp
Summary: You meet the most interesting people in bars...
Start your engines
By Epeeblade
The guy was good, Sam admitted, watching as he sank three balls in a row. He had the showmanship to go along with the skills. Long fingers caressed the cue as he lined up his next shot. He gave a sideways glance her way complete with lopsided grin. His body was draped across the table, giving a nice view of his assets.
He was good, but Sam was better.
She sank her last ball, called the eight ball in the opposite pocket from where it perched precariously. He laughed, but didn’t seem surprised when she sank it just like she said she would.
“Double or nothing?” he placed the twenty on the table.
“You like losing?” she asked, setting her cue down on the green.
He flashed another grin at her. “Oh, sweetheart, pool ain’t the game I’m winning.”
Embarrassingly enough, it made her blush. “You don’t even know me.” She picked up his twenty and threw it back at him. It made her angry, that he thought she was a sure thing.
Not that he wasn’t hot, in a rugged sort of way. He reminded her inexplicably of all her teammates at once. Daniel’s wide-eyed enthusiasm, Cam’s charm, complete with the sense of danger that hovered just underneath Teal’c’s calm. But she wanted him on her terms. Not his.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, pocketing the twenty. “It wasn’t like that. Just wondering what a hot babe like yourself is doing alone in a place like this.”
Sam grinned. “Hustling pool.”
He laughed. Then he leaned forward, till his lips brushed her ear. “Want to take this outside?”
“Not your place?”
“I’m just passing through. Got a nice ride out back, if you’re interested.”
She picked up her motorcycle helmet. “So do I.”
He wasn’t kidding about the ride. She approached the car with wonder in her eyes. “Wow, ’67 right? V8?”
“The only way to drive,” he said. “Just rebuilt her not that long ago.”
“Can you pop the hood?” Sam asked, “I’d love to take a look at the engine…” She turned to face him. His eyes were wide, pupils blown open.
“Marry me,” he said with a grin.
She leaned against the hood, her eyes darkening. “You worried about scratching the finish?”
“Honey, for you, I’d make an exception.” He slipped between her legs, bending down to touch her lips with his. He was gentle at first, too gentle. She opened her mouth and took control of the kiss, biting his full lower lip, and then possessing his mouth.
She pulled away, lifting one hand to run along his cheek, reveling in the uneven stubble along his jaw. Sam licked at it, then met his green eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Dean,” he said.
“Sam,” she supplied.
“What?” he looked startled.
“Short for Samantha?”
He laughed, bending down again. “Gotcha.”
This time there was nothing gentle about the kiss. Dean seemed intent on proving himself the bad boy his leather jacket and unshaven jaw signified. He pressed her down against the hood of the car, the ridge of his jeans pressed against her groin.
She threaded her fingers in his short hair, following when he slipped from her mouth to nuzzle at her neck, mouthing between her breasts.
“As much as I like this,” she murmured, “I would like to take it inside the car.” She really didn’t need to get caught having illicit sex on the hood of a car. The General wouldn’t be too happy about bailing her out of jail.
“Not a problem.”
He opened the back seat and allowed her in first. When he scrambled in, she straddled his lap. “Easy,” he laughed, bunching up her t-shirt and touching the skin beneath.
Dean’s hands were warm, fingers supple as they stroked her body. He pulled her bra out of the way, thumbing her nipples gently.
“Off,” she said, pushing at his jacket. He stopped touching her long enough to get it off and throw it into the front seat. She pulled up his t-shirt and set it aside. Sam wanted to explore him as much as he did her. His skin was surprisingly soft, broken only by silvery scars along his torso, hard to see in the dim light of the streetlamp.
He popped open the button on her jeans, fingers teasing along her bellybutton, moving down slowly. Sam rose up on her knees, letting him push down her pants and underwear. “You any good with those fingers?” she taunted.
“I got something better.” He shifted so she was back against the seat, pressed against one window, Dean half on his knees on the floor of the car. His grin was intact as he leaned forward and touched his tongue to her center.
She nearly bolted off the bench. He knew exactly how to touch her, more than instinct, something like experience. But his touches were soft, loving. He was a man who knew women. He nibbled at her, fingers seeking purchase inside, but not leaving the important part out. Sam rolled her hips, wanting more, wanting completion.
“Shhh,” he whispered along her thigh, jaw rough against her sensitive skin. “You can scream when I tell you.”
She laughed, but it rapidly became a moan as he dived back into flesh. He used every skill at his disposal, twisting two fingers inside her. Sam pushed back against him, wanting, needing. Finally, finally, he let her come, her flesh clenching around him as she pulsed, her body lost in pure sensation.
“Just like that,” he murmured, still looking up at her from between her spread legs. Somehow one leg was out of her jeans, the other still trapped inside it. She felt dirty and debauched. And she liked it.
Sam pulled him up, kissing him again, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. “What do you need?”
He moaned against her mouth. “Just touch me, anything, please.”
She slid her hands between his legs, unzipping his jeans with a frustrated sigh. He was so hard in her hand, flesh scorching hot between her fingers. She had done this to him, made him hot with her moans and her body. Sam ran a thumb against the head, gathering the fluid gathered there, then used it to slick her way down. He throbbed in her hand, so close already. It didn’t take long at all, long strips of come decorating her hand and arm.
Then he lifted her hand to his lips and licked it clean.
“You’re something else,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed, dark with desire. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Neither, Sam thought, had he.
Comment fic I wrote for chelle's Get Sam Carter laid challenge.
Title: Start your engines
Pairing: Sam Carter/Dean Winchester
Crossover: Stargate/Supernatural
Rating: NC-17 for pwp
Summary: You meet the most interesting people in bars...
Start your engines
By Epeeblade
The guy was good, Sam admitted, watching as he sank three balls in a row. He had the showmanship to go along with the skills. Long fingers caressed the cue as he lined up his next shot. He gave a sideways glance her way complete with lopsided grin. His body was draped across the table, giving a nice view of his assets.
He was good, but Sam was better.
She sank her last ball, called the eight ball in the opposite pocket from where it perched precariously. He laughed, but didn’t seem surprised when she sank it just like she said she would.
“Double or nothing?” he placed the twenty on the table.
“You like losing?” she asked, setting her cue down on the green.
He flashed another grin at her. “Oh, sweetheart, pool ain’t the game I’m winning.”
Embarrassingly enough, it made her blush. “You don’t even know me.” She picked up his twenty and threw it back at him. It made her angry, that he thought she was a sure thing.
Not that he wasn’t hot, in a rugged sort of way. He reminded her inexplicably of all her teammates at once. Daniel’s wide-eyed enthusiasm, Cam’s charm, complete with the sense of danger that hovered just underneath Teal’c’s calm. But she wanted him on her terms. Not his.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, pocketing the twenty. “It wasn’t like that. Just wondering what a hot babe like yourself is doing alone in a place like this.”
Sam grinned. “Hustling pool.”
He laughed. Then he leaned forward, till his lips brushed her ear. “Want to take this outside?”
“Not your place?”
“I’m just passing through. Got a nice ride out back, if you’re interested.”
She picked up her motorcycle helmet. “So do I.”
He wasn’t kidding about the ride. She approached the car with wonder in her eyes. “Wow, ’67 right? V8?”
“The only way to drive,” he said. “Just rebuilt her not that long ago.”
“Can you pop the hood?” Sam asked, “I’d love to take a look at the engine…” She turned to face him. His eyes were wide, pupils blown open.
“Marry me,” he said with a grin.
She leaned against the hood, her eyes darkening. “You worried about scratching the finish?”
“Honey, for you, I’d make an exception.” He slipped between her legs, bending down to touch her lips with his. He was gentle at first, too gentle. She opened her mouth and took control of the kiss, biting his full lower lip, and then possessing his mouth.
She pulled away, lifting one hand to run along his cheek, reveling in the uneven stubble along his jaw. Sam licked at it, then met his green eyes. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Dean,” he said.
“Sam,” she supplied.
“What?” he looked startled.
“Short for Samantha?”
He laughed, bending down again. “Gotcha.”
This time there was nothing gentle about the kiss. Dean seemed intent on proving himself the bad boy his leather jacket and unshaven jaw signified. He pressed her down against the hood of the car, the ridge of his jeans pressed against her groin.
She threaded her fingers in his short hair, following when he slipped from her mouth to nuzzle at her neck, mouthing between her breasts.
“As much as I like this,” she murmured, “I would like to take it inside the car.” She really didn’t need to get caught having illicit sex on the hood of a car. The General wouldn’t be too happy about bailing her out of jail.
“Not a problem.”
He opened the back seat and allowed her in first. When he scrambled in, she straddled his lap. “Easy,” he laughed, bunching up her t-shirt and touching the skin beneath.
Dean’s hands were warm, fingers supple as they stroked her body. He pulled her bra out of the way, thumbing her nipples gently.
“Off,” she said, pushing at his jacket. He stopped touching her long enough to get it off and throw it into the front seat. She pulled up his t-shirt and set it aside. Sam wanted to explore him as much as he did her. His skin was surprisingly soft, broken only by silvery scars along his torso, hard to see in the dim light of the streetlamp.
He popped open the button on her jeans, fingers teasing along her bellybutton, moving down slowly. Sam rose up on her knees, letting him push down her pants and underwear. “You any good with those fingers?” she taunted.
“I got something better.” He shifted so she was back against the seat, pressed against one window, Dean half on his knees on the floor of the car. His grin was intact as he leaned forward and touched his tongue to her center.
She nearly bolted off the bench. He knew exactly how to touch her, more than instinct, something like experience. But his touches were soft, loving. He was a man who knew women. He nibbled at her, fingers seeking purchase inside, but not leaving the important part out. Sam rolled her hips, wanting more, wanting completion.
“Shhh,” he whispered along her thigh, jaw rough against her sensitive skin. “You can scream when I tell you.”
She laughed, but it rapidly became a moan as he dived back into flesh. He used every skill at his disposal, twisting two fingers inside her. Sam pushed back against him, wanting, needing. Finally, finally, he let her come, her flesh clenching around him as she pulsed, her body lost in pure sensation.
“Just like that,” he murmured, still looking up at her from between her spread legs. Somehow one leg was out of her jeans, the other still trapped inside it. She felt dirty and debauched. And she liked it.
Sam pulled him up, kissing him again, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. “What do you need?”
He moaned against her mouth. “Just touch me, anything, please.”
She slid her hands between his legs, unzipping his jeans with a frustrated sigh. He was so hard in her hand, flesh scorching hot between her fingers. She had done this to him, made him hot with her moans and her body. Sam ran a thumb against the head, gathering the fluid gathered there, then used it to slick her way down. He throbbed in her hand, so close already. It didn’t take long at all, long strips of come decorating her hand and arm.
Then he lifted her hand to his lips and licked it clean.
“You’re something else,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed, dark with desire. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Neither, Sam thought, had he.