Fic: Yoshino (McKay/Carter/Sheppard), NC-17
Title: Yoshino
Author: eretria (with giant amounts of help from auburnnothenna, who doesn't want credit but gets it anyway.)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Size: ~16,000, 99 KB
Disclaimers: We're not making and not wanting any profit.
Spoilers: None
Characters: Sam Carter, John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for lunasky's Love-Fest, secret revealed in post-script.
Also available as one file for download here.
Summary: "It was a moment set aside from the rest of their lives"
It was Colonel Sheppard who had the driver stop.
"I think I'll walk," he declared as he exited the car. "You guys can take the car wherever."
To Sam's surprise, McKay didn't sit back against the leather upholstery and accept the opportunity to be alone with her. Instead he got out too, folded his arms and glared at Sheppard, grumbling, "You have a fetish for walking, don't you? Do you realize how dangerous Washington, DC is? And you want to wander around in the middle of the night, while wearing a tuxedo."
"Well, I thought about wearing board shorts and a tee, but someone insisted I actually had to wear this penguin suit," Sheppard replied. The dry humor in his voice might have owed a little to the wine they'd all been served during dinner with the President.
"Whatever," McKay muttered. He was looking around. They weren't far from the Mall. If Sam craned her head out the open car door, she could see the brilliantly lit Washington Monument.
"Come on, McKay. Tomorrow we head home," Sheppard said. He waved, encompassing the whole city somehow, smiling. "Let's enjoy ourselves."
"I had every intention of enjoying myself in my hotel room," McKay said.
"Rodney...," Sheppard drawled.
"What?"
Sheppard shrugged. "Cherry blossoms."
Sam wondered exactly how many glasses of wine Colonel Sheppard had downed at the reception following the medal presentation in the Oval Office. McKay had muttered sotto voce complaints about secret medals that were taken away and locked up immediately, until Sheppard stuck an elbow into his ribs. By the time they had left the White House, he had been back in full swing. "You would think that the last so-called superpower could spring for a little some thing more than a passable meal and a handshake from the latest toothpaste salesman, turned politician, for the three people who saved the entire planet."
"Gratitude of your country, McKay," Sheppard had replied as the three of them were whisked away in the hired car.
"Some gratitude, and it's not even my country, as you very well know."
Now the two of them were standing under a streetlight, squabbling again in the way Sam had grown used to. She wanted to compare them to O'Neill and Daniel, but the dynamic between them was as different to her old teammates as their appearance. The one thing in common was the deep, unshakable connection between them; it was something more than friendship, something that endured even through anger. Sheppard just shook his head at McKay. The streetlight gleamed off his dark hair and then on the tiny maple leaf pin McKay had on his lapel.
Before she could think better of it, Sam slid a leg out of the car and got out. It was a perfect April night and she wasn't really ready to go back to her sensible hotel room and strip off the Cinderella gear yet. To tell the truth, she wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to these two men after spending three weeks working with them in Antarctica.
She tapped the window of the driver's door and, when he let it down told him, "We're going to walk down the Mall. You can go home." She'd hire a cab to take her to her hotel afterward.
"Ma'am, I'm assigned to you all night."
Sam didn't think the driver was a Marine, but he had a certain military posture. Maybe ex. The car service and all its employees were probably vetted...She shrugged.
"Ma'am," the driver said, drawing her attention back to him. He held out a card. "If you've got a cell, just ring this number and I'll pick you and your friends up, other side of the Mall."
"Thank you," she told him and tucked the card into her purse with her cell.
The window glided up and the sedan rolled away, leaving her with Sheppard and McKay. They regarded her curiously and Sam pulled her velvet wrap a little tighter over her bare shoulders. "I felt like walking, too."
McKay looked at her legs and the tall heels she'd bought just to wear with her ridiculously expensive dark blue dress. "Sure."
Sheppard just shrugged and offered her his arm, prompting McKay to take her other, either out of belated gentlemanly courtesy or sheer competitiveness.
They wandered toward the monument, white and shining under its spotlights, until they found some of the cherry trees. There weren't as many here as at the Tidal Basin, but by night they were ethereally beautiful, petals of moon-washed pink drifting to the grass pale as snow.
"Are we even supposed to be here this time of night?" Rodney asked. Sometime during their walk it had become Rodney and not McKay.
Sheppard rolled his shoulders and grinned at him and Sam. "No idea. Guess we'll find out if the Capitol Police bust us."
"Oh, that's wonderful. I'll be able to add Earth to my list of worlds with jails I've visited."
Sam found herself laughing to herself.
They walked down to the Reflecting Pool toward the Lincoln Memorial. The dark water reflected the wide steps and Doric columns mirror sharp. The rippled surface reminded Sam of event horizons and quantum mirrors, as though she could step through it into the next universe, but her reflection was there too and it was only water. Petals floated on the surface. The scent of the blossoming trees hung heavy in the air, noticeable despite the city smells, and Sam breathed deep, catching a light whiff of cologne from both Rodney and Sheppard. She stopped walking, pulling the velvet shawl tighter around her shoulders. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen cherry-trees in bloom and the realization of how much she had missed since she started working for the SGC hit her suddenly, unexpectedly. So many seasons missed, gone like the flowers. She had seen them on other planets, but never at home. That knowledge hurt. The petals floating weightlessly on the water captured her gaze. Daniel would have quoted something Zen or a Haiku in Japanese. McKay was muttering something about the energy requirements for the new Antarctica shield generator and oblivious to the beauty around them.
And Sheppard?
Sam glanced up and was transfixed: Sheppard's face was turned to the night sky, the breeze that had her pulling her velvet wrap over her shoulders stirring his dark hair. A few stray cherry blossom petals caught in it, pale and delicate as a promise. She knew he was searching for the stars lost in the city's glare.
It was a moment set aside from the rest of their lives, a bubble that held just the three of them, herself and Rodney and Colonel Sheppard. She barely knew him, beyond the three frantic weeks they'd spent cobbling together a defense against the Wraith threat, but they were still all bound together by that experience and the strange emptiness that had followed their success.
The sounds of Washington DC: the traffic, the horns, music and voices of thousands of people obliviously living their lives, seemed set at a remove. As though they were the only ones to ever stand by the Reflecting Pool, amid the spotlights and the marble, midway between Washington's white obelisk and the grandeur and dignity of Lincoln's memorial.
"You can't even see Polaris from here," Sheppard said.
"Pegasus is still there, Colonel," Rodney told him.
Sheppard's eyes were dark and glittering like they held the stars themselves when he looked down. "It better be," he said and it was a joke, but it was also something else. Something Sam knew Rodney felt as well. Tomorrow these two would board the Daedalus and return to Atlantis, leaving Earth behind, to go home.
She wanted suddenly, badly, to give them something of Earth to remember, to remind them that it had once been home, to take something of her with them. She'd had to accept she was never going to Pegasus; there were too many responsibilities here for her to abandon them. She sighed softly. It wasn't like she hadn't had her own adventures, or that she was never going to step through a stargate again.
Sheppard's gaze caught hers. His expression changed from curious to questioning, to intent.
"You've got to come someday, Colonel," Rodney said, startling her. "Atlantis is so much more than you imagine from videos and reports."
She smiled at him. "Someday," she said, meaning it, no matter how hollow a promise it was. She might die on the next mission SG-1 went on. There were no guarantees. They might die fighting the Wraith.
"We'll give you the grand tour," Rodney said, but his voice cracked.
"Someday," Sheppard echoed and she knew they both understood. "We'll be waiting."
Pretty, empty promises.
On impulse, Sam reached up and brushed the cherry petals away, letting her fingers linger in the cool silk of Sheppard's hair then cupping his cheek. The faintest prickle of beard rasped against her palm.
She smiled, a little embarrassed, and pulled her hand back. Her wrap slipped with the movement, falling from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow. It caught and pulled the bit of silver ribbon masquerading as a strap on her dress down with it. She laughed awkwardly and started to straighten it, but Sheppard's fingers were there first, his raspy "Let me," kindling a warmth matching the heat of his fingertips that brushed her arm as he pulled the strap back into place. Rodney pulled her wrap back up and his hand brushed against Sheppard's, so that they both jerked away and she had to laugh.
Rodney glared at Sheppard, who gave him a 'Who-me?' look to equal any of Jack O'Neill's.
So, maybe she was a little tipsy, or just a little wild for once, but they would both be gone too soon. Cherry blossoms weren’t forever. Sam went with it. She took the single necessary step closer and kissed the corner of Rodney's mouth, just brushing her lips over his on the side that angled down.
He stared at her as she pulled away, eyes wide and spooked. "What - ?"
He looked so surprised in that very moment, so much closer than he had ever been, so very far away from the annoying asshole he could be that Sam just followed her instincts - she hugged him to her. Her hands flexed against his shoulder blades. He stilled completely for a second, not even breathing. She smiled into his shoulder and tightened her arms.
He expelled his breath in a whoosh and returned the hug with something that was too close to desperation for her taste and didn't fit the light mood.
Behind them, Sheppard cleared his throat. Rodney's death-grip on her eased a little and he drew back, looking at her. The smugness was there, just waiting to break free, but he reined it in. She was grateful for that, because she really didn't want to slap him right now.
His hands slipped to her shoulder and he murmured: "Thanks, Colonel."
"Sam," she corrected him, smiling.
"Sam," he repeated and grinned that manic grin that shouldn't be as charming as it was. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek - warm, dry lips, just barely foregoing the loud smack. She frowned and remembered her first kiss. Far later then it should have been - even at a very young age, she had been ambitious, a nerd and not popular with other kids. So the logical choice when she still hadn't been kissed at eighteen had been her best and only male friend at the time: a catastrophe she didn't like being reminded of - and absolutely terrible. She remembered being revolted by his invading tongue and she had wondered why people considered kissing such a big deal. She hadn't kissed anyone again until she left the academy, and still hadn't found someone whom she would consider a good enough kisser to make her actually enjoy it.
She wondered, though. Wondered if that cockiness Rodney McKay displayed extended to non-professional things as well.
He didn't try anything, though, and she was almost disappointed. She didn't know what she had expected, so she steered them back to safer territory. "You have to come back someday, too, Rodney."
"Well, of course, I do. I'll need to accept my Nobel, for one thing," he said with a huff. Beside her, Sheppard's eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, quirky and obviously delighted by Rodney, and Sam felt a stab of relief as she realized that the feeling between these two went both ways. "I'll expect a better kiss than that when I do."
Rodney's gaze turned speculative and she opened her eyes wider, challenging him into something she wasn't even sure she wanted. Except she did. It was one more night until they went back to Atlantis and she returned to the mountain to find a new strategy against the Ori. She grinned cheekily. "Oh? Can you give as good as you get?"
He snorted, and that haughty look she used to hate flickered over his face. "Better," Rodney said, all smug superiority.
"Prove it."
"Is that a challenge?"
Her eyebrow rose and Rodney's gaze changed - suddenly, it was all intent and concentration. She found her stomach fluttering at the look in his eyes and wondered briefly if challenging him had been a good idea, but it was too late. He took her by surprise when he pulled her into his arms - there was muscle, firm and warm, under that dress shirt. His hands came up to frame her face and his eyes never left hers, their blue shadowed to a darker gray in the dim light, close, so very close, her breasts against his chest, his breath on her face and his lashes almost brushing her cheek ... She lost her breath for an instant, then inhaled as Rodney proved he deserved a medal, at least, for kissing. A hint of his scent under the soap and aftershave teased her. His lips were firm and persuasive, until she parted hers and then she had to wind her arms around his neck as he bent her back over his arm, the kiss getting deeper and wilder, reminding her how long it had been since she'd been with anyone. She really hadn't anticipated this: Rodney didn't kiss like an uncle bussing her cheek, nor like the awkward nervous geek she had been at nineteen; no, Rodney kissed like he could have made a profession of it, a vocation. Sweet and sure enough she felt her wrap slip and fall and didn't care. Her lips were going to be swollen, her lipstick gone, and she didn't mind, not at all. His hand stroked over her cheek, while his tongue teased hers.
She kept hold of Rodney's arm after he released her. Just for balance, she wasn't used to heels as high as she was wearing tonight. She had goosebumps. Wow. She rubbed at her upper arms, satin opera gloves rubbing over the tops and onto skin with a soft fabric hiss.
Sheppard cleared his throat and offered her the wrap. "I think I should just...let you two go on," he said.
Sam took the wrap and caught his arm at the same time. "Wait."
"Really - "
"Sheppard," Rodney snapped in annoyance. "Don't be an idiot. Well, more of one than you usually are. In fact, why aren't you doing that thing you usually do? You know, where you interfere the instant it looks like a woman might like me?"
Sheppard shook his head. "Sorry, Rodney." He tugged at his arm that Sam still held. One eyebrow rose.
"Do you really do that?" Sam asked him.
He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "One time."
"Every time," Rodney insisted.
"Rodney..."
"And they always fall all over themselves for him," Rodney complained, but there was glint in his eyes, a light, happy tone to his voice, "like good hair and a come-hither smile are better than, oh, saving everyone from dying in a giant super-volcano's eruption."
"Maybe it is," Sheppard replied.
"Hah."
"Well, Colonel," Sam said recklessly, "there's one way to find out how you stand in comparison with Rodney."
"What!?" Rodney exclaimed.
She gave a tug to Sheppard's arm and he came to her, smiling, obviously not believing she had any intention of following through, and she hadn't, not until she saw that. Then she decided she would have to kiss Sheppard, just to prove she could.
Sam lifted her face and touched her lips to his. He appeared startled that she was doing this after all. His immobility didn’t last long and when his lips started moving over hers, challenging him as well seemed like the best idea she’d ever had.
Sheppard didn't kiss like Rodney. He was certain, but unhurried, seducing Sam's mouth slowly, lips warm and silky against hers. He teased and invited with gentle, sure pressure that caught at her imagination. He smiled and she felt that, couldn't help smiling too. When he licked playfully at the corner of her mouth, she parted her lips and touched her tongue to his, surprising him, she thought. She could feel his chuckle where her hand rested against his chest. She felt the heat of his body through the layers of his tuxedo and the thud of his heart picking up speed. His tongue stroked into her mouth, sweetness languorously transforming into heat. He tasted of the same brandy Rodney had and smelled of the same aftershave and was nothing like Rodney at all. Except in his intense focus, taking his time to learn her mouth, lazily stoking a slow burning fire. All without touching her with more than his mouth once.
The only word for the way Sheppard kissed, was lush.
The wind picked up and chilled her. The kiss slowed to an end and she stepped back a little, away from his warmth.
Sheppard's eyes were trained on her, hooded but intense, and just behind him, Rodney stood, watching them both with eyes that seemed to have grown even bigger than before.
They were breathing fast now, all of them. Cherry petals drifted down on their clothes and hair giving them a connection that was different from before, when there was just work. Life and death situations had a way of fusing people together stronger and closer than life ever did for others, but she knew that those forged bonds and a few kisses wouldn't be enough now. She gazed at Rodney and Sheppard, both ridiculously handsome in their black tuxes. Sheppard had the slightly darker look she had fallen for before, while Rodney…he wouldn't stand out in a crowd like Sheppard, but his broad shoulders and crooked mouth and wide blue eyes made him more than just vaguely attractive. Sam had never gone for just a pretty face, anyway. Which was what made Sheppard so appealing - he was downright pretty, but there was more, hidden, but swirling under the surface.
She wondered if she could strip some of Sheppard's control away and look deeper. She wondered if Rodney was as cocky in bed as he was at work. She wondered how they would look against crisp white sheets, both of them, with their hands on her. All focus, energy and a dark night-wind carrying silky petals.
It was an insane thought to have. She decided she liked insanity, for once. It was their last night. They might never have this chance again.
Sam reached for both men's hands. Took them. Looked at them both, trying to broadcast her intent without words.
Rodney swallowed and threw a surreptitious glance in Sheppard's direction. Sheppard didn't notice, though. His fingers were rubbing small circles on the back of her glove and he was looking at her with an intensity that would make her knees go weak if she allowed them to.
They needed no words - in fact, Sam was pretty sure that spelling it out would have ruined the moment and, at the very least, made Sheppard run, if not herself, too - so Sam started walking, knowing they would follow.
She reached into her purse and flicked open her mobile phone, and called back the dark, unofficial limousine that had brought them here.
The limousine arrived by the time they reached the edge of the park, and Sam was glad they didn't have to wait. Waiting would have meant thinking, and thinking would have led to over thinking. She didn't want to think now.
They got inside, Rodney first, then her and then Sheppard. The door closed; the soft, muffled snap of an expensive car. Then she could only hear their breathing, the rustling of their clothes against the leather seats. It was surprisingly warm inside the backseat, or maybe it was just Rodney and Sheppard's legs against her own.
The small window that shielded the driver's space from their own was wound down and the driver - the same young, serious-looking man - asked: "Where to, Ma'am?"
She was just about to answer when Rodney pushed against her, looking at the driver: "The Mandarin Oriental."
The driver's eyebrows rose a notch and he turned. "Yes, Sir."
The glass partition closed again and Rodney leaned back, a smug grin on his face. "You don't mind, do you?"
She wanted to tell him that hell, of course she didn't mind staying in one of the most expensive hotels in DC, but she didn't like being walked over like that. She knew that she might let this one thing go, but any more and Rodney would be taking charge of this, making her want to hit him sooner or later. Plus, Sheppard - who was just drifting along right now - would be gone for sure. She knew she needed to do something to keep him with them, and do it soon, or he would give into his first impulse - leave.
"No, Rodney," she answered, making sure to give her voice a long-suffering inflection.
Sam turned to Sheppard, saw him look out the window at the city rolling past in its brilliantly colored night. Red and blue chased over his face, reminding her of the alarms ringing out in Antarctica and of too many life-and-death-situations in the SGC.
As though catching her thoughts, Sheppard turned to her and gave her a small quirk of his lips; a facial shrug and Sam couldn't help but smile back. She reached for his left hand that lay loosely on his thigh. Laced their fingers for a moment and then rested his hand on her knee, just above the slit revealing her dark blue underskirt and her silk-clad legs. His hand looked bright against the dark blue of her dress.
With her hand over his, she pressed his palm against her leg, felt the warmth seep into her skin. He dipped his head forward, before hesitating again and Sam could barely resist rolling her eyes. They were nearing the end of their thirties for heaven's sake. She closed the gap between them, kissing Sheppard again. It wasn't hard. She wanted to stay with those lips for a long, long time, just feel the wet, hot glide of his tongue and the way he breathed in sharply when she threaded her hand under his tux-jacket and slipped a part of his shirt out of his pants, finally touching warm skin. He groaned into her mouth and she felt the sound vibrate against her lips. His hand moved on her thigh, disturbing the dress. Fabric moving against fabric, when what she wanted was nothing more than the feel of his hand on skin. Her nipples were tightening, and her bra began to chafe her.
Sam ran her hands over that small, hot strip of skin, scraping lightly with her fingernails. Sheppard groaned again, kissed her more deeply.
Behind them, Rodney made an impatient sound and then there was a flurry of motion. Hands reached for her waist and turned her around, rough in their eagerness, thumbs pressing uncomfortably against her ribs. She was half in Rodney's lap before she could do so much as protest.
He growled: "My turn," and kissed her - deep, hot and hungry, shooting sparks of pleasure straight to her groin. For a moment, she didn't mind the manhandling at all. Half-heartedly, she put her hands on Rodney's shoulders and pushed. He didn't let go, however, too intent on kissing her and she didn't want to admit it but he was good at this. Much better than she ever would have imagined, and she might just forgive him the rough handling if he went on sucking on her tongue and teasing her like he knew exactly what she wanted.
Almost forgotten, Sheppard's hand suddenly flexed, moved from her knee higher on her thigh, long fingers just grazing the lace edge of the thigh-highs, flexing and unflexing, massaging and brushing and scraping blunt fingernails over the silk. She jerked against his hand, felt damp heat spreading between her legs. Rodney noticed her distraction and reached for her, clamping both hands on her face and throwing even more of himself into the kiss, bruising pressure and a dominance that was at war with Sheppard's ministrations.
Her brain kicked in despite the assault on her senses. She was not a piece of taffy they could pull and bend and shape to their will, damn it.
She kissed Rodney back, teasingly, followed his lead for a few more moments before she bit his lower lip in retaliation.
He jerked back from her so fast she almost fell against Sheppard.
There was silence in the limousine suddenly, just the quiet rumble of the car's motor and their own ragged breathing.
Rodney's eyes were dark and his face was even more open than earlier: Hurt and surprise clashed with something darker, more basic. He looked hot, hungry and incredibly turned on. She wondered if he'd ever fantasized about her wanting him and taking him, showing him exactly where his place was. He hadn't taken the bite as a reprimand, she realized as she watched him lick at the cut she had left. He looked on this as foreplay. He wanted her to be dominating.
Something in her belly fluttered - panic or arousal, she couldn't say. She had never assumed this role before, not when it came to sex at any rate, but, looking at Rodney; at his dilated eyes, high color and look of naked, unfiltered need made her want to try. Besides, she realized when Sheppard's hand continued its slow erotic journey on her thigh, she was enjoying it as much as Rodney and Sheppard were.
The silence had lasted too long and given the three of them time to think. She didn't want to think. She wanted Rodney's kisses and Sheppard's hands back on her thighs and on her panties and under them and in her and…the slow rolling pleasure had escalated into something more. She wanted, now.
Rodney was about to say something but she cut him off. "Don't." Rodney going into full nervous talking mode would be absolutely detrimental to maintaining her mood. Doing this meant keeping Rodney as quiet as possible.
So she said: "Wait your turn," and moved to Sheppard, giving him a quick kiss and perching half on his knee - God, yeah, there was the friction she wanted - and pushed his other hand on her hip. The skirt of her dress rode up and up as his hands moved from her hip to her thigh and back, lighting fire after fire on her skin.
She turned back to Rodney, then. "Come here," she said huskily. He surged forward but she stopped him with a hand against his chest. "Slow. You can do slow, right, McKay?"
She should know better than to challenge him. He dipped his head down and just watched, his eyes burning holes into her. His absurdly long lashes almost touched her cheeks when he blinked. Their lips were mere millimeters away from each other, near enough to feel the warmth and taste his breath, but not close enough to touch. His tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip carefully, a small electric shock to her system. She had to fight to not follow his lips with hers when he pulled back. He dipped forward again, his teeth just grazing her lip.
Both of Sheppard's hands were on her thighs now, under her dress, drawing trails of heat on her skin. His long fingers found the lace of her thigh-highs and lifted them minutely, dipping under and moving in the tiniest of circles. His calloused fingertips were rough against her skin.
Rodney's lips finally closed in on hers again and she ground down on Sheppard's knee, desperate for the friction he was holding back. Rodney's slow; focused and intense kisses left her head spinning, her hands clawing into his shoulders.
She floated in the sensations when a new one sent another shock of pleasure to her center - Sheppard's lips on her shoulder; small, delicate kisses along the line of her shoulder to her neck. Hot, moist breath stirring her hair. He nipped on her earlobe and she didn't know where to turn - toward Rodney or toward Sheppard. All she wanted was for them to melt into her skin so she could keep those sensations with her. Gasping out, she tore her mouth away from Rodney and tried to find her breath along with her composure.
It was in that moment - Sheppard's lips on her shoulder and Rodney's on her jaw - when she noticed the driver looking into the mirror intently. The realization they were being watched, and probably had been for a while cooled her down fast. She twisted away from Rodney and slipped off Sheppard's knee, pulling her dress smooth over her knees again.
"How much longer?"
Her voice shocked both Rodney and Sheppard into sitting up straighter than before, though neither let go of her completely. Sheppard's hand was still under her skirt and she felt both dirty and aroused because of it.
"Just one more block, Ma'am," the driver answered and turned his gaze back on the street.
None of them spoke through the rest of the drive, sitting straight and staring forward while their breathing returned to normal.
Sheppard handed her out of the car when they arrived at the hotel, while Rodney dealt with the driver. They walked inside without touching. Sam wondered how Rodney and Sheppard had ended up staying at the Mandarin Oriental. Uncle Sam wasn't paying for her to stay anywhere half as ritzy, even if she was in town to have dinner with the President.
The lobby was huge - cherry wood pillars carrying a round paneled roof and opening to the dusky blue-black that was the DC night, something close to an atrium shedding light on a small, stylish table with exotic flowers and a floor of highly polished dark and light marble in warm, inviting colors.
Sam tried to not let her surprise show, instead concentrating on the floor and the sudden urge to take off her shoes and slide over the polished marble with a loud whoop. She caught Sheppard's look and smiled, realizing that he was thinking something similar as he mouthed, "Zoom." For a moment, she wondered if they would be able to get Rodney to join them.
Before she finished the thought, however, the doors to the elevator had opened and they were stepping inside, around the porter who gave them a professionally cheerful smile.
"Which floor?" he asked and Sheppard was about to answer when Rodney cut in. "Sixth, please."
"Gladly, Sir."
The porter straightened a little and smiled with studied friendliness and Sam wondered what kind of a suite Rodney had rented that that garnered that sort of response.
The doors of the elevator closed and next to her, Rodney breathed deep and even, but too forced. Claustrophobia, she remembered, had been a problem ever since she knew him. How he could stand the transporters on Atlantis when every elevator on Earth gave him the creeps was a mystery for the ages. Maybe the transporters in Atlantis didn't give him time to get nervous or feel that swoopy feeling at the pit of his stomach.
She straightened the fall of her wrap over her shoulders and arms; suddenly aware Rodney was watching her again. Sam smiled. The dress had been worth every cent. Rodney and every other man had looked more than once during the night. The President had remarked that he'd make something like that the uniform for Air Force officers if they all looked as good as she did. Sheppard had coughed and the President had laughed, admitting it probably wouldn't flatter him. She'd felt beautiful all night.
She smiled at Rodney.
"So...," Sheppard drawled, leaning back against the elevator wall. "I think I'll just head for my room."
"I don't think so," Sam told him.
Rodney's gaze slid toward them. "I've got the suite. We should at least have a drink before we say good night," he suggested with more discretion than Sam would have credited him having.
"You're sure?" Sheppard asked doubtfully, just as the elevator came to stop at the sixth floor.
"Yes, yes, obviously," Rodney snapped.
Sheppard gestured for Sam to precede him through the door. She touched his arm as she went. "I'm sure."
Rodney took the lead, taking them to his room and using the key card impatiently. "Come on."
"You know this is probably a bad idea?" Sheppard asked as they entered the suite.
Sam shrugged. "Take a chance." She smiled seductively at him.
"I'm the one who over thinks things, usually," Rodney added. "Quit trying to be sensible, Sheppard, it doesn't suit you."
Go to part 2
(Cutting here because it's too big for LJ, not because I enjoy cutting. Again, the whole story is also available for download on Auburn's here, for those of you who prefer reading it as one)
Author: eretria (with giant amounts of help from auburnnothenna, who doesn't want credit but gets it anyway.)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Size: ~16,000, 99 KB
Disclaimers: We're not making and not wanting any profit.
Spoilers: None
Characters: Sam Carter, John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for lunasky's Love-Fest, secret revealed in post-script.
Also available as one file for download here.
Summary: "It was a moment set aside from the rest of their lives"
It was Colonel Sheppard who had the driver stop.
"I think I'll walk," he declared as he exited the car. "You guys can take the car wherever."
To Sam's surprise, McKay didn't sit back against the leather upholstery and accept the opportunity to be alone with her. Instead he got out too, folded his arms and glared at Sheppard, grumbling, "You have a fetish for walking, don't you? Do you realize how dangerous Washington, DC is? And you want to wander around in the middle of the night, while wearing a tuxedo."
"Well, I thought about wearing board shorts and a tee, but someone insisted I actually had to wear this penguin suit," Sheppard replied. The dry humor in his voice might have owed a little to the wine they'd all been served during dinner with the President.
"Whatever," McKay muttered. He was looking around. They weren't far from the Mall. If Sam craned her head out the open car door, she could see the brilliantly lit Washington Monument.
"Come on, McKay. Tomorrow we head home," Sheppard said. He waved, encompassing the whole city somehow, smiling. "Let's enjoy ourselves."
"I had every intention of enjoying myself in my hotel room," McKay said.
"Rodney...," Sheppard drawled.
"What?"
Sheppard shrugged. "Cherry blossoms."
Sam wondered exactly how many glasses of wine Colonel Sheppard had downed at the reception following the medal presentation in the Oval Office. McKay had muttered sotto voce complaints about secret medals that were taken away and locked up immediately, until Sheppard stuck an elbow into his ribs. By the time they had left the White House, he had been back in full swing. "You would think that the last so-called superpower could spring for a little some thing more than a passable meal and a handshake from the latest toothpaste salesman, turned politician, for the three people who saved the entire planet."
"Gratitude of your country, McKay," Sheppard had replied as the three of them were whisked away in the hired car.
"Some gratitude, and it's not even my country, as you very well know."
Now the two of them were standing under a streetlight, squabbling again in the way Sam had grown used to. She wanted to compare them to O'Neill and Daniel, but the dynamic between them was as different to her old teammates as their appearance. The one thing in common was the deep, unshakable connection between them; it was something more than friendship, something that endured even through anger. Sheppard just shook his head at McKay. The streetlight gleamed off his dark hair and then on the tiny maple leaf pin McKay had on his lapel.
Before she could think better of it, Sam slid a leg out of the car and got out. It was a perfect April night and she wasn't really ready to go back to her sensible hotel room and strip off the Cinderella gear yet. To tell the truth, she wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to these two men after spending three weeks working with them in Antarctica.
She tapped the window of the driver's door and, when he let it down told him, "We're going to walk down the Mall. You can go home." She'd hire a cab to take her to her hotel afterward.
"Ma'am, I'm assigned to you all night."
Sam didn't think the driver was a Marine, but he had a certain military posture. Maybe ex. The car service and all its employees were probably vetted...She shrugged.
"Ma'am," the driver said, drawing her attention back to him. He held out a card. "If you've got a cell, just ring this number and I'll pick you and your friends up, other side of the Mall."
"Thank you," she told him and tucked the card into her purse with her cell.
The window glided up and the sedan rolled away, leaving her with Sheppard and McKay. They regarded her curiously and Sam pulled her velvet wrap a little tighter over her bare shoulders. "I felt like walking, too."
McKay looked at her legs and the tall heels she'd bought just to wear with her ridiculously expensive dark blue dress. "Sure."
Sheppard just shrugged and offered her his arm, prompting McKay to take her other, either out of belated gentlemanly courtesy or sheer competitiveness.
They wandered toward the monument, white and shining under its spotlights, until they found some of the cherry trees. There weren't as many here as at the Tidal Basin, but by night they were ethereally beautiful, petals of moon-washed pink drifting to the grass pale as snow.
"Are we even supposed to be here this time of night?" Rodney asked. Sometime during their walk it had become Rodney and not McKay.
Sheppard rolled his shoulders and grinned at him and Sam. "No idea. Guess we'll find out if the Capitol Police bust us."
"Oh, that's wonderful. I'll be able to add Earth to my list of worlds with jails I've visited."
Sam found herself laughing to herself.
They walked down to the Reflecting Pool toward the Lincoln Memorial. The dark water reflected the wide steps and Doric columns mirror sharp. The rippled surface reminded Sam of event horizons and quantum mirrors, as though she could step through it into the next universe, but her reflection was there too and it was only water. Petals floated on the surface. The scent of the blossoming trees hung heavy in the air, noticeable despite the city smells, and Sam breathed deep, catching a light whiff of cologne from both Rodney and Sheppard. She stopped walking, pulling the velvet shawl tighter around her shoulders. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen cherry-trees in bloom and the realization of how much she had missed since she started working for the SGC hit her suddenly, unexpectedly. So many seasons missed, gone like the flowers. She had seen them on other planets, but never at home. That knowledge hurt. The petals floating weightlessly on the water captured her gaze. Daniel would have quoted something Zen or a Haiku in Japanese. McKay was muttering something about the energy requirements for the new Antarctica shield generator and oblivious to the beauty around them.
And Sheppard?
Sam glanced up and was transfixed: Sheppard's face was turned to the night sky, the breeze that had her pulling her velvet wrap over her shoulders stirring his dark hair. A few stray cherry blossom petals caught in it, pale and delicate as a promise. She knew he was searching for the stars lost in the city's glare.
It was a moment set aside from the rest of their lives, a bubble that held just the three of them, herself and Rodney and Colonel Sheppard. She barely knew him, beyond the three frantic weeks they'd spent cobbling together a defense against the Wraith threat, but they were still all bound together by that experience and the strange emptiness that had followed their success.
The sounds of Washington DC: the traffic, the horns, music and voices of thousands of people obliviously living their lives, seemed set at a remove. As though they were the only ones to ever stand by the Reflecting Pool, amid the spotlights and the marble, midway between Washington's white obelisk and the grandeur and dignity of Lincoln's memorial.
"You can't even see Polaris from here," Sheppard said.
"Pegasus is still there, Colonel," Rodney told him.
Sheppard's eyes were dark and glittering like they held the stars themselves when he looked down. "It better be," he said and it was a joke, but it was also something else. Something Sam knew Rodney felt as well. Tomorrow these two would board the Daedalus and return to Atlantis, leaving Earth behind, to go home.
She wanted suddenly, badly, to give them something of Earth to remember, to remind them that it had once been home, to take something of her with them. She'd had to accept she was never going to Pegasus; there were too many responsibilities here for her to abandon them. She sighed softly. It wasn't like she hadn't had her own adventures, or that she was never going to step through a stargate again.
Sheppard's gaze caught hers. His expression changed from curious to questioning, to intent.
"You've got to come someday, Colonel," Rodney said, startling her. "Atlantis is so much more than you imagine from videos and reports."
She smiled at him. "Someday," she said, meaning it, no matter how hollow a promise it was. She might die on the next mission SG-1 went on. There were no guarantees. They might die fighting the Wraith.
"We'll give you the grand tour," Rodney said, but his voice cracked.
"Someday," Sheppard echoed and she knew they both understood. "We'll be waiting."
Pretty, empty promises.
On impulse, Sam reached up and brushed the cherry petals away, letting her fingers linger in the cool silk of Sheppard's hair then cupping his cheek. The faintest prickle of beard rasped against her palm.
She smiled, a little embarrassed, and pulled her hand back. Her wrap slipped with the movement, falling from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow. It caught and pulled the bit of silver ribbon masquerading as a strap on her dress down with it. She laughed awkwardly and started to straighten it, but Sheppard's fingers were there first, his raspy "Let me," kindling a warmth matching the heat of his fingertips that brushed her arm as he pulled the strap back into place. Rodney pulled her wrap back up and his hand brushed against Sheppard's, so that they both jerked away and she had to laugh.
Rodney glared at Sheppard, who gave him a 'Who-me?' look to equal any of Jack O'Neill's.
So, maybe she was a little tipsy, or just a little wild for once, but they would both be gone too soon. Cherry blossoms weren’t forever. Sam went with it. She took the single necessary step closer and kissed the corner of Rodney's mouth, just brushing her lips over his on the side that angled down.
He stared at her as she pulled away, eyes wide and spooked. "What - ?"
He looked so surprised in that very moment, so much closer than he had ever been, so very far away from the annoying asshole he could be that Sam just followed her instincts - she hugged him to her. Her hands flexed against his shoulder blades. He stilled completely for a second, not even breathing. She smiled into his shoulder and tightened her arms.
He expelled his breath in a whoosh and returned the hug with something that was too close to desperation for her taste and didn't fit the light mood.
Behind them, Sheppard cleared his throat. Rodney's death-grip on her eased a little and he drew back, looking at her. The smugness was there, just waiting to break free, but he reined it in. She was grateful for that, because she really didn't want to slap him right now.
His hands slipped to her shoulder and he murmured: "Thanks, Colonel."
"Sam," she corrected him, smiling.
"Sam," he repeated and grinned that manic grin that shouldn't be as charming as it was. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek - warm, dry lips, just barely foregoing the loud smack. She frowned and remembered her first kiss. Far later then it should have been - even at a very young age, she had been ambitious, a nerd and not popular with other kids. So the logical choice when she still hadn't been kissed at eighteen had been her best and only male friend at the time: a catastrophe she didn't like being reminded of - and absolutely terrible. She remembered being revolted by his invading tongue and she had wondered why people considered kissing such a big deal. She hadn't kissed anyone again until she left the academy, and still hadn't found someone whom she would consider a good enough kisser to make her actually enjoy it.
She wondered, though. Wondered if that cockiness Rodney McKay displayed extended to non-professional things as well.
He didn't try anything, though, and she was almost disappointed. She didn't know what she had expected, so she steered them back to safer territory. "You have to come back someday, too, Rodney."
"Well, of course, I do. I'll need to accept my Nobel, for one thing," he said with a huff. Beside her, Sheppard's eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, quirky and obviously delighted by Rodney, and Sam felt a stab of relief as she realized that the feeling between these two went both ways. "I'll expect a better kiss than that when I do."
Rodney's gaze turned speculative and she opened her eyes wider, challenging him into something she wasn't even sure she wanted. Except she did. It was one more night until they went back to Atlantis and she returned to the mountain to find a new strategy against the Ori. She grinned cheekily. "Oh? Can you give as good as you get?"
He snorted, and that haughty look she used to hate flickered over his face. "Better," Rodney said, all smug superiority.
"Prove it."
"Is that a challenge?"
Her eyebrow rose and Rodney's gaze changed - suddenly, it was all intent and concentration. She found her stomach fluttering at the look in his eyes and wondered briefly if challenging him had been a good idea, but it was too late. He took her by surprise when he pulled her into his arms - there was muscle, firm and warm, under that dress shirt. His hands came up to frame her face and his eyes never left hers, their blue shadowed to a darker gray in the dim light, close, so very close, her breasts against his chest, his breath on her face and his lashes almost brushing her cheek ... She lost her breath for an instant, then inhaled as Rodney proved he deserved a medal, at least, for kissing. A hint of his scent under the soap and aftershave teased her. His lips were firm and persuasive, until she parted hers and then she had to wind her arms around his neck as he bent her back over his arm, the kiss getting deeper and wilder, reminding her how long it had been since she'd been with anyone. She really hadn't anticipated this: Rodney didn't kiss like an uncle bussing her cheek, nor like the awkward nervous geek she had been at nineteen; no, Rodney kissed like he could have made a profession of it, a vocation. Sweet and sure enough she felt her wrap slip and fall and didn't care. Her lips were going to be swollen, her lipstick gone, and she didn't mind, not at all. His hand stroked over her cheek, while his tongue teased hers.
She kept hold of Rodney's arm after he released her. Just for balance, she wasn't used to heels as high as she was wearing tonight. She had goosebumps. Wow. She rubbed at her upper arms, satin opera gloves rubbing over the tops and onto skin with a soft fabric hiss.
Sheppard cleared his throat and offered her the wrap. "I think I should just...let you two go on," he said.
Sam took the wrap and caught his arm at the same time. "Wait."
"Really - "
"Sheppard," Rodney snapped in annoyance. "Don't be an idiot. Well, more of one than you usually are. In fact, why aren't you doing that thing you usually do? You know, where you interfere the instant it looks like a woman might like me?"
Sheppard shook his head. "Sorry, Rodney." He tugged at his arm that Sam still held. One eyebrow rose.
"Do you really do that?" Sam asked him.
He had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "One time."
"Every time," Rodney insisted.
"Rodney..."
"And they always fall all over themselves for him," Rodney complained, but there was glint in his eyes, a light, happy tone to his voice, "like good hair and a come-hither smile are better than, oh, saving everyone from dying in a giant super-volcano's eruption."
"Maybe it is," Sheppard replied.
"Hah."
"Well, Colonel," Sam said recklessly, "there's one way to find out how you stand in comparison with Rodney."
"What!?" Rodney exclaimed.
She gave a tug to Sheppard's arm and he came to her, smiling, obviously not believing she had any intention of following through, and she hadn't, not until she saw that. Then she decided she would have to kiss Sheppard, just to prove she could.
Sam lifted her face and touched her lips to his. He appeared startled that she was doing this after all. His immobility didn’t last long and when his lips started moving over hers, challenging him as well seemed like the best idea she’d ever had.
Sheppard didn't kiss like Rodney. He was certain, but unhurried, seducing Sam's mouth slowly, lips warm and silky against hers. He teased and invited with gentle, sure pressure that caught at her imagination. He smiled and she felt that, couldn't help smiling too. When he licked playfully at the corner of her mouth, she parted her lips and touched her tongue to his, surprising him, she thought. She could feel his chuckle where her hand rested against his chest. She felt the heat of his body through the layers of his tuxedo and the thud of his heart picking up speed. His tongue stroked into her mouth, sweetness languorously transforming into heat. He tasted of the same brandy Rodney had and smelled of the same aftershave and was nothing like Rodney at all. Except in his intense focus, taking his time to learn her mouth, lazily stoking a slow burning fire. All without touching her with more than his mouth once.
The only word for the way Sheppard kissed, was lush.
The wind picked up and chilled her. The kiss slowed to an end and she stepped back a little, away from his warmth.
Sheppard's eyes were trained on her, hooded but intense, and just behind him, Rodney stood, watching them both with eyes that seemed to have grown even bigger than before.
They were breathing fast now, all of them. Cherry petals drifted down on their clothes and hair giving them a connection that was different from before, when there was just work. Life and death situations had a way of fusing people together stronger and closer than life ever did for others, but she knew that those forged bonds and a few kisses wouldn't be enough now. She gazed at Rodney and Sheppard, both ridiculously handsome in their black tuxes. Sheppard had the slightly darker look she had fallen for before, while Rodney…he wouldn't stand out in a crowd like Sheppard, but his broad shoulders and crooked mouth and wide blue eyes made him more than just vaguely attractive. Sam had never gone for just a pretty face, anyway. Which was what made Sheppard so appealing - he was downright pretty, but there was more, hidden, but swirling under the surface.
She wondered if she could strip some of Sheppard's control away and look deeper. She wondered if Rodney was as cocky in bed as he was at work. She wondered how they would look against crisp white sheets, both of them, with their hands on her. All focus, energy and a dark night-wind carrying silky petals.
It was an insane thought to have. She decided she liked insanity, for once. It was their last night. They might never have this chance again.
Sam reached for both men's hands. Took them. Looked at them both, trying to broadcast her intent without words.
Rodney swallowed and threw a surreptitious glance in Sheppard's direction. Sheppard didn't notice, though. His fingers were rubbing small circles on the back of her glove and he was looking at her with an intensity that would make her knees go weak if she allowed them to.
They needed no words - in fact, Sam was pretty sure that spelling it out would have ruined the moment and, at the very least, made Sheppard run, if not herself, too - so Sam started walking, knowing they would follow.
She reached into her purse and flicked open her mobile phone, and called back the dark, unofficial limousine that had brought them here.
The limousine arrived by the time they reached the edge of the park, and Sam was glad they didn't have to wait. Waiting would have meant thinking, and thinking would have led to over thinking. She didn't want to think now.
They got inside, Rodney first, then her and then Sheppard. The door closed; the soft, muffled snap of an expensive car. Then she could only hear their breathing, the rustling of their clothes against the leather seats. It was surprisingly warm inside the backseat, or maybe it was just Rodney and Sheppard's legs against her own.
The small window that shielded the driver's space from their own was wound down and the driver - the same young, serious-looking man - asked: "Where to, Ma'am?"
She was just about to answer when Rodney pushed against her, looking at the driver: "The Mandarin Oriental."
The driver's eyebrows rose a notch and he turned. "Yes, Sir."
The glass partition closed again and Rodney leaned back, a smug grin on his face. "You don't mind, do you?"
She wanted to tell him that hell, of course she didn't mind staying in one of the most expensive hotels in DC, but she didn't like being walked over like that. She knew that she might let this one thing go, but any more and Rodney would be taking charge of this, making her want to hit him sooner or later. Plus, Sheppard - who was just drifting along right now - would be gone for sure. She knew she needed to do something to keep him with them, and do it soon, or he would give into his first impulse - leave.
"No, Rodney," she answered, making sure to give her voice a long-suffering inflection.
Sam turned to Sheppard, saw him look out the window at the city rolling past in its brilliantly colored night. Red and blue chased over his face, reminding her of the alarms ringing out in Antarctica and of too many life-and-death-situations in the SGC.
As though catching her thoughts, Sheppard turned to her and gave her a small quirk of his lips; a facial shrug and Sam couldn't help but smile back. She reached for his left hand that lay loosely on his thigh. Laced their fingers for a moment and then rested his hand on her knee, just above the slit revealing her dark blue underskirt and her silk-clad legs. His hand looked bright against the dark blue of her dress.
With her hand over his, she pressed his palm against her leg, felt the warmth seep into her skin. He dipped his head forward, before hesitating again and Sam could barely resist rolling her eyes. They were nearing the end of their thirties for heaven's sake. She closed the gap between them, kissing Sheppard again. It wasn't hard. She wanted to stay with those lips for a long, long time, just feel the wet, hot glide of his tongue and the way he breathed in sharply when she threaded her hand under his tux-jacket and slipped a part of his shirt out of his pants, finally touching warm skin. He groaned into her mouth and she felt the sound vibrate against her lips. His hand moved on her thigh, disturbing the dress. Fabric moving against fabric, when what she wanted was nothing more than the feel of his hand on skin. Her nipples were tightening, and her bra began to chafe her.
Sam ran her hands over that small, hot strip of skin, scraping lightly with her fingernails. Sheppard groaned again, kissed her more deeply.
Behind them, Rodney made an impatient sound and then there was a flurry of motion. Hands reached for her waist and turned her around, rough in their eagerness, thumbs pressing uncomfortably against her ribs. She was half in Rodney's lap before she could do so much as protest.
He growled: "My turn," and kissed her - deep, hot and hungry, shooting sparks of pleasure straight to her groin. For a moment, she didn't mind the manhandling at all. Half-heartedly, she put her hands on Rodney's shoulders and pushed. He didn't let go, however, too intent on kissing her and she didn't want to admit it but he was good at this. Much better than she ever would have imagined, and she might just forgive him the rough handling if he went on sucking on her tongue and teasing her like he knew exactly what she wanted.
Almost forgotten, Sheppard's hand suddenly flexed, moved from her knee higher on her thigh, long fingers just grazing the lace edge of the thigh-highs, flexing and unflexing, massaging and brushing and scraping blunt fingernails over the silk. She jerked against his hand, felt damp heat spreading between her legs. Rodney noticed her distraction and reached for her, clamping both hands on her face and throwing even more of himself into the kiss, bruising pressure and a dominance that was at war with Sheppard's ministrations.
Her brain kicked in despite the assault on her senses. She was not a piece of taffy they could pull and bend and shape to their will, damn it.
She kissed Rodney back, teasingly, followed his lead for a few more moments before she bit his lower lip in retaliation.
He jerked back from her so fast she almost fell against Sheppard.
There was silence in the limousine suddenly, just the quiet rumble of the car's motor and their own ragged breathing.
Rodney's eyes were dark and his face was even more open than earlier: Hurt and surprise clashed with something darker, more basic. He looked hot, hungry and incredibly turned on. She wondered if he'd ever fantasized about her wanting him and taking him, showing him exactly where his place was. He hadn't taken the bite as a reprimand, she realized as she watched him lick at the cut she had left. He looked on this as foreplay. He wanted her to be dominating.
Something in her belly fluttered - panic or arousal, she couldn't say. She had never assumed this role before, not when it came to sex at any rate, but, looking at Rodney; at his dilated eyes, high color and look of naked, unfiltered need made her want to try. Besides, she realized when Sheppard's hand continued its slow erotic journey on her thigh, she was enjoying it as much as Rodney and Sheppard were.
The silence had lasted too long and given the three of them time to think. She didn't want to think. She wanted Rodney's kisses and Sheppard's hands back on her thighs and on her panties and under them and in her and…the slow rolling pleasure had escalated into something more. She wanted, now.
Rodney was about to say something but she cut him off. "Don't." Rodney going into full nervous talking mode would be absolutely detrimental to maintaining her mood. Doing this meant keeping Rodney as quiet as possible.
So she said: "Wait your turn," and moved to Sheppard, giving him a quick kiss and perching half on his knee - God, yeah, there was the friction she wanted - and pushed his other hand on her hip. The skirt of her dress rode up and up as his hands moved from her hip to her thigh and back, lighting fire after fire on her skin.
She turned back to Rodney, then. "Come here," she said huskily. He surged forward but she stopped him with a hand against his chest. "Slow. You can do slow, right, McKay?"
She should know better than to challenge him. He dipped his head down and just watched, his eyes burning holes into her. His absurdly long lashes almost touched her cheeks when he blinked. Their lips were mere millimeters away from each other, near enough to feel the warmth and taste his breath, but not close enough to touch. His tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip carefully, a small electric shock to her system. She had to fight to not follow his lips with hers when he pulled back. He dipped forward again, his teeth just grazing her lip.
Both of Sheppard's hands were on her thighs now, under her dress, drawing trails of heat on her skin. His long fingers found the lace of her thigh-highs and lifted them minutely, dipping under and moving in the tiniest of circles. His calloused fingertips were rough against her skin.
Rodney's lips finally closed in on hers again and she ground down on Sheppard's knee, desperate for the friction he was holding back. Rodney's slow; focused and intense kisses left her head spinning, her hands clawing into his shoulders.
She floated in the sensations when a new one sent another shock of pleasure to her center - Sheppard's lips on her shoulder; small, delicate kisses along the line of her shoulder to her neck. Hot, moist breath stirring her hair. He nipped on her earlobe and she didn't know where to turn - toward Rodney or toward Sheppard. All she wanted was for them to melt into her skin so she could keep those sensations with her. Gasping out, she tore her mouth away from Rodney and tried to find her breath along with her composure.
It was in that moment - Sheppard's lips on her shoulder and Rodney's on her jaw - when she noticed the driver looking into the mirror intently. The realization they were being watched, and probably had been for a while cooled her down fast. She twisted away from Rodney and slipped off Sheppard's knee, pulling her dress smooth over her knees again.
"How much longer?"
Her voice shocked both Rodney and Sheppard into sitting up straighter than before, though neither let go of her completely. Sheppard's hand was still under her skirt and she felt both dirty and aroused because of it.
"Just one more block, Ma'am," the driver answered and turned his gaze back on the street.
None of them spoke through the rest of the drive, sitting straight and staring forward while their breathing returned to normal.
Sheppard handed her out of the car when they arrived at the hotel, while Rodney dealt with the driver. They walked inside without touching. Sam wondered how Rodney and Sheppard had ended up staying at the Mandarin Oriental. Uncle Sam wasn't paying for her to stay anywhere half as ritzy, even if she was in town to have dinner with the President.
The lobby was huge - cherry wood pillars carrying a round paneled roof and opening to the dusky blue-black that was the DC night, something close to an atrium shedding light on a small, stylish table with exotic flowers and a floor of highly polished dark and light marble in warm, inviting colors.
Sam tried to not let her surprise show, instead concentrating on the floor and the sudden urge to take off her shoes and slide over the polished marble with a loud whoop. She caught Sheppard's look and smiled, realizing that he was thinking something similar as he mouthed, "Zoom." For a moment, she wondered if they would be able to get Rodney to join them.
Before she finished the thought, however, the doors to the elevator had opened and they were stepping inside, around the porter who gave them a professionally cheerful smile.
"Which floor?" he asked and Sheppard was about to answer when Rodney cut in. "Sixth, please."
"Gladly, Sir."
The porter straightened a little and smiled with studied friendliness and Sam wondered what kind of a suite Rodney had rented that that garnered that sort of response.
The doors of the elevator closed and next to her, Rodney breathed deep and even, but too forced. Claustrophobia, she remembered, had been a problem ever since she knew him. How he could stand the transporters on Atlantis when every elevator on Earth gave him the creeps was a mystery for the ages. Maybe the transporters in Atlantis didn't give him time to get nervous or feel that swoopy feeling at the pit of his stomach.
She straightened the fall of her wrap over her shoulders and arms; suddenly aware Rodney was watching her again. Sam smiled. The dress had been worth every cent. Rodney and every other man had looked more than once during the night. The President had remarked that he'd make something like that the uniform for Air Force officers if they all looked as good as she did. Sheppard had coughed and the President had laughed, admitting it probably wouldn't flatter him. She'd felt beautiful all night.
She smiled at Rodney.
"So...," Sheppard drawled, leaning back against the elevator wall. "I think I'll just head for my room."
"I don't think so," Sam told him.
Rodney's gaze slid toward them. "I've got the suite. We should at least have a drink before we say good night," he suggested with more discretion than Sam would have credited him having.
"You're sure?" Sheppard asked doubtfully, just as the elevator came to stop at the sixth floor.
"Yes, yes, obviously," Rodney snapped.
Sheppard gestured for Sam to precede him through the door. She touched his arm as she went. "I'm sure."
Rodney took the lead, taking them to his room and using the key card impatiently. "Come on."
"You know this is probably a bad idea?" Sheppard asked as they entered the suite.
Sam shrugged. "Take a chance." She smiled seductively at him.
"I'm the one who over thinks things, usually," Rodney added. "Quit trying to be sensible, Sheppard, it doesn't suit you."
Go to part 2
(Cutting here because it's too big for LJ, not because I enjoy cutting. Again, the whole story is also available for download on Auburn's here, for those of you who prefer reading it as one)