Flashpoint Fic: Formal Jules (Sam/Jules, PG-13)
Title: Formal Jules
Word Count: 200.
Characters/pairings: Sam/Jules.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: 2x01 - Eagle Two.
Summary: Formal Jules was a living fantasy.
Written for: flashpoint_sru, prompt #17 Outfit.
Beta: The awesome lillyg!
Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint or anything related to it.
Formal Jules
Formal Jules was a living fantasy.
Her hair up, perfect for Sam to transform it into a mess as he let it fall over her shoulders and ran his fingers over it.
Discrete earrings in her ears - the ears he wanted to bite lightly as he pressed her down to the bed.
The toned, gorgeous skin he longed to roam over as she panted against his neck.
The sweet eyes he’d love to ask her to close so he could surprise her with the right touches.
The wet lips he died to taste and bruise with the sexiest kisses.
The tongue he’d love to feel as his slid against it.
She’d lose the suit eventually. It was professional and fresh and it tightened in all the right places, but it needed to come off.
And then it’d be his turn. He’d undress for her and surrender completely.
He would definitely do all that. If only the Sarge would stop telling him to stay focused, if only Sam could stop staring at the second button of her shirt like a teenager with a very active imagination.
If only that little button could be ripped off by the power of the mind.
The End.
Word Count: 200.
Characters/pairings: Sam/Jules.
Rating: PG-13.
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: 2x01 - Eagle Two.
Summary: Formal Jules was a living fantasy.
Written for: flashpoint_sru, prompt #17 Outfit.
Beta: The awesome lillyg!
Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint or anything related to it.
Formal Jules
Formal Jules was a living fantasy.
Her hair up, perfect for Sam to transform it into a mess as he let it fall over her shoulders and ran his fingers over it.
Discrete earrings in her ears - the ears he wanted to bite lightly as he pressed her down to the bed.
The toned, gorgeous skin he longed to roam over as she panted against his neck.
The sweet eyes he’d love to ask her to close so he could surprise her with the right touches.
The wet lips he died to taste and bruise with the sexiest kisses.
The tongue he’d love to feel as his slid against it.
She’d lose the suit eventually. It was professional and fresh and it tightened in all the right places, but it needed to come off.
And then it’d be his turn. He’d undress for her and surrender completely.
He would definitely do all that. If only the Sarge would stop telling him to stay focused, if only Sam could stop staring at the second button of her shirt like a teenager with a very active imagination.
If only that little button could be ripped off by the power of the mind.
The End.