Fic | Oscillation | Sam/Baal, SG1 [FRM]
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Rating: FRM
Warning: Masturbation
Written for: sg_15_fics
Prompt: #2 Fantasy
Word Count: 622
Summary: She wants him. Regardless of common sense, regulations and the opinions of her team-mates.
It's past midnight when Sam wakes, sweating and panting. Aching. The dream teases at the corners of her mind, frustrating her with its vividness, its impossibility. She can't have what she wants. Shouldn't even want what she wants.
She gets out of bed, heads for the shower. The water envelops her, warming her skin. Caressing her as she imagined his hands.
Curving over her hips, his mouth on her neck.
A twist of the dial turns the water cold. She gasps in shock, but the chill drives the heat from between her legs. The dream ebbs away, leaving her with the stark cold of reality.
How much does a dream reflect her desires? Is this something she should worry about? She snorts: she dreamt of fucking Baal - of course it's something to worry about. Groaning, she closes her eyes and adjusts the temperature before she catches hypothermia.
Lathering her body, her hands sweep over her breasts, the cold-stiffened nipples. The groan that leaves her lips now is one of pure frustrated lust, and spine arching at a half-recalled snippet of x-rated fantasy.
That wicked mouth on her breasts, neat teeth nipping at her sensitive flesh.
She wants him. Regardless of common sense, regulations and the opinions of her team-mates.
Realising that the shower, whether hot or cold, is not working, she turns it off and dries herself off quickly. She can't get what she wants. Not this time. But she can ease the urge a little.
Butt naked, she walks from the bathroom and to the nightstand by her bed. Takes out the small ammo box and releases the clip. Opens the lid and smiles to herself. Regulations don't cover this.
On her bed. On her back. She closes her eyes and lets her mind sink into fantasy, into the dark, deepest recesses of imagination. Lets herself think of the things she really shouldn't: how his lips would taste, what his skin would feel like beneath her palms, whether he would groan as he thrust deep into her.
The wetness between her legs has nothing to do with the shower and everything to do with the darkness she'd seen in his eyes. How could she want him? How could she not? Too good-looking, too charming, too under her skin to ignore. The vibrator slides in unhindered by morals or regulations.
Sam groans and pushes in deep. Deeper. Slides out again. In and out. In. Out. Her heart beats faster, her sex moistens. His name forms on her tongue and she traps it behind her teeth.
His lips trail down her neck. A multi-toned voice murmurs her name.
“Oh...” She breathes out, back arching. “God.”
Can he hear her? Could he sense his name if she lets it slip? She smiles, imagining his smirk. Imagining his long fingers rather than the vibe.
She edges the speed up. The buzz rattles up her spine, turns it to water. She's so. Damn. Close.
Insolent Tau'ri female.
It comes to her, as clear as if he's in the room. Mocking, with a hint of frustrated passion. She remembers the exact angle of his head, the furrow between his eyebrows, the slight narrowing of his eyes.
His voice comes to her and tips her over the edge. Sparks explode behind her eyelids and she cries out. Collapses back against the mattress. Lets the vibrator slip out from her, her fingers numb, her limbs heavy.
Seconds pass. Minutes. Her breathing slows. Her heart beats steadier. Sweat cools on her skin. Her desire is stated, but the bone-deep ache still haunts her, along with that smug smirk.
Sam rolls onto her side and pulls the covers over her.
And whispers one word into the dark silence.
Characters: Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Rating: FRM
Warning: Masturbation
Written for: sg_15_fics
Prompt: #2 Fantasy
Word Count: 622
Summary: She wants him. Regardless of common sense, regulations and the opinions of her team-mates.
It's past midnight when Sam wakes, sweating and panting. Aching. The dream teases at the corners of her mind, frustrating her with its vividness, its impossibility. She can't have what she wants. Shouldn't even want what she wants.
She gets out of bed, heads for the shower. The water envelops her, warming her skin. Caressing her as she imagined his hands.
Curving over her hips, his mouth on her neck.
A twist of the dial turns the water cold. She gasps in shock, but the chill drives the heat from between her legs. The dream ebbs away, leaving her with the stark cold of reality.
How much does a dream reflect her desires? Is this something she should worry about? She snorts: she dreamt of fucking Baal - of course it's something to worry about. Groaning, she closes her eyes and adjusts the temperature before she catches hypothermia.
Lathering her body, her hands sweep over her breasts, the cold-stiffened nipples. The groan that leaves her lips now is one of pure frustrated lust, and spine arching at a half-recalled snippet of x-rated fantasy.
That wicked mouth on her breasts, neat teeth nipping at her sensitive flesh.
She wants him. Regardless of common sense, regulations and the opinions of her team-mates.
Realising that the shower, whether hot or cold, is not working, she turns it off and dries herself off quickly. She can't get what she wants. Not this time. But she can ease the urge a little.
Butt naked, she walks from the bathroom and to the nightstand by her bed. Takes out the small ammo box and releases the clip. Opens the lid and smiles to herself. Regulations don't cover this.
On her bed. On her back. She closes her eyes and lets her mind sink into fantasy, into the dark, deepest recesses of imagination. Lets herself think of the things she really shouldn't: how his lips would taste, what his skin would feel like beneath her palms, whether he would groan as he thrust deep into her.
The wetness between her legs has nothing to do with the shower and everything to do with the darkness she'd seen in his eyes. How could she want him? How could she not? Too good-looking, too charming, too under her skin to ignore. The vibrator slides in unhindered by morals or regulations.
Sam groans and pushes in deep. Deeper. Slides out again. In and out. In. Out. Her heart beats faster, her sex moistens. His name forms on her tongue and she traps it behind her teeth.
His lips trail down her neck. A multi-toned voice murmurs her name.
“Oh...” She breathes out, back arching. “God.”
Can he hear her? Could he sense his name if she lets it slip? She smiles, imagining his smirk. Imagining his long fingers rather than the vibe.
She edges the speed up. The buzz rattles up her spine, turns it to water. She's so. Damn. Close.
Insolent Tau'ri female.
It comes to her, as clear as if he's in the room. Mocking, with a hint of frustrated passion. She remembers the exact angle of his head, the furrow between his eyebrows, the slight narrowing of his eyes.
His voice comes to her and tips her over the edge. Sparks explode behind her eyelids and she cries out. Collapses back against the mattress. Lets the vibrator slip out from her, her fingers numb, her limbs heavy.
Seconds pass. Minutes. Her breathing slows. Her heart beats steadier. Sweat cools on her skin. Her desire is stated, but the bone-deep ache still haunts her, along with that smug smirk.
Sam rolls onto her side and pulls the covers over her.
And whispers one word into the dark silence.