SGA Ficlet: Regrets, I've Had a Few (Rodney/Sam R)
So, um, I wrote SGA het. *points at icon*
This was written for a Get Sam Laid comment challenge over on mmmchelle's LiveJournal. There's some lovely stuff there, so go and read it.
Who would think that getting Sam Carter laid would be the siren's song that would lure my missing muse back to me. :D
Title: Regrets, I've Had a Few
Pairing: Samantha Carter/Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17(ish)
Word Count: ~1,100
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money made. Etc.
Feedback: Yes and Please and Thank You
Summary: Sometimes, you do things in the heat of the moment you live to regret. But then sometimes, you don't.
Slight spoiler for SG-1 Episode The Road Not Taken.
Casting Spoiler (if it really even is a spoiler anymore) for SGA S4.
SGA S4 AU
After it happened, Sam had been sure that it would be the fuck heard 'round the world. And she'd been sure that when next they met, he would greet her with an expression of gloating satisfaction pasted on his too expressive face.
But that hadn't happened. Oh, sure, she could see the acknowledgement of what had happened in his eyes when he'd walked into the conference room that morning, but the look was one of warm affection, his smile a touch bittersweet, not smug or lecherous. She wasn't sure whether that was better or worse.
She wanted to blame what had happened on homesickness and a feeling of loneliness so crushing that sometimes it took her breath away. She wanted to blame the glasses of wine she had drunk right before he'd come to her quarters to argue once again about a planet that he and Sheppard wanted to explore and that she had been less then enthusiastic about. She wanted to blame the fact that his was a face well known if not loved, a face from the time when she'd been surrounded by people who were like family and not people who were still virtual strangers. She wanted to blame the fact that in another universe, their counterparts had once been married and she had liked that other Rodney. She wanted to blame the fact that it'd been far too long since someone who cared about her had held her in his arms. But she knew that none of those excuses was the reason it had happened.
She hadn't meant for her gesture to be anything more than a way to shut McKay up, and so when she had put her hand over his mouth to silence the flow of words, she'd been surprised at the flicker of heat she'd felt as his lips slid over the sensitive skin of her palm. She had gasped and drawn her hand back quickly, but Rodney had heard the gasp, saw the gooseflesh that pimpled the skin of her bare arms.
"Sam?" he had said, his eyes wide.
She had licked suddenly dry lips, and his eyes had followed the flicking of her tongue.
"Sam?" he'd said again, his voice just a little rough, and Sam had shivered at the sound, and he saw and stepped forward, their bodies, already too close, now even closer.
He had locked his gaze onto hers; questioning, seeking, and then he had lifted his hand and gently caressed her face.
"Did I ever tell you about the time you saved my life?" he'd asked softly.
"You mean that time I was nearly naked in your hallucination?" she'd asked pulling her face away, breaking contact.
He'd smiled then, looking a little embarrassed and a lot boyish. It was a devastating look for McKay.
"What can I say; you're hot," he'd said with that damned endearingly crooked smile. "Can't blame a guy for imagining you nearly naked."
She'd stepped back, away from his heat, from the gravitational pull of his body. They had just stood there looking at each other, and Sam felt her heart beating far too quickly, knew her breathing was far too rapid. When he stepped forward again, when he caressed her face again, she hadn't pulled away. And when he'd lowered his mouth to hers, she'd closed her eyes and allowed it.
The kiss started gently; utterly, overwhelmingly sweet. When it was finished, he'd pulled back and looked at her, and when he'd lowered his head again, the kiss was less sweet and more demanding; pushy, greedy McKay seeking entrance into her mouth. And she'd allowed it, wanted it, and it was everything she'd never imagined from him, pulling feelings from her she'd never known she'd had. And before she knew it, she was grabbing at his clothes, pushing up his shirt, allowing him to pull up hers.
He'd stripped her quickly, his mouth laying claim to every inch of skin laid bare. Somehow, they'd made it to her bed, and when she felt his weight pushing her down into the mattress, she'd had a moment of clarity. This was Rodney McKay, and she did not want to do this with Rodney McKay. But then his lips had closed around her nipple, and she'd cried out as the pleasure jolted her. He had sucked and licked and nibbled and caressed, unleashing a need too long suppressed, and when his hand had slipped between her thighs, she'd opened for him, and when he'd moved over her, nudged at her opening, she'd raised her legs, tilted her hips, and taken him in.
Afterwards, they had lain together for a bit until she'd pulled away and said, "Rodney."
"Hmmm?" he said sleepily.
"You, um, you need to go now."
He'd opened his eyes, searched her face, sighed, nodded, and sat up. She'd watched as he walked across the room and into her bathroom. She'd gotten up once he was out of the room, hastily pulled her bathrobe around her naked body, and waited uncomfortably, too aware of the musk of sex in the air, of the wetness between her thighs.
When he'd exited the bathroom and began to pull on his clothing, she'd said, "Look, this was a-"
"Mistake," he'd interrupted, his voice flat, not looking at her as he buttoned his trousers. "'It should never have happened, won't ever happen again, yadda yadda yadda.'" He'd looked at her then and smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm a genius, Sam. I figured out that's how you felt when you kicked me out of your bed." He'd finished dressing quickly before she'd been able to formulate any more words. When he reached the door, he had turned back to her, grinned, and said, "By the way, for once my genius failed me. You're even hotter naked than I'd imagined." With a waggle of his eyebrows, he turned, palmed open her door, and left. With a sinking feeling, she'd been sure that by the morning everyone in Atlantis would know that Rodney McKay had finally nailed Samantha Carter.
But that hadn't happened, and as Sam watched Rodney walk out of the conference room beside Sheppard, hands waving in the air to emphasize whatever point he was making, she began to relax.
And she absolutely did not remember the feel of those hands on her body, and she absolutely did not think about the bottle of wine and two glasses that sat on her dresser in her quarters.
The End
This was written for a Get Sam Laid comment challenge over on mmmchelle's LiveJournal. There's some lovely stuff there, so go and read it.
Who would think that getting Sam Carter laid would be the siren's song that would lure my missing muse back to me. :D
Title: Regrets, I've Had a Few
Pairing: Samantha Carter/Rodney McKay
Rating: NC-17(ish)
Word Count: ~1,100
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money made. Etc.
Feedback: Yes and Please and Thank You
Summary: Sometimes, you do things in the heat of the moment you live to regret. But then sometimes, you don't.
Slight spoiler for SG-1 Episode The Road Not Taken.
Casting Spoiler (if it really even is a spoiler anymore) for SGA S4.
SGA S4 AU
After it happened, Sam had been sure that it would be the fuck heard 'round the world. And she'd been sure that when next they met, he would greet her with an expression of gloating satisfaction pasted on his too expressive face.
But that hadn't happened. Oh, sure, she could see the acknowledgement of what had happened in his eyes when he'd walked into the conference room that morning, but the look was one of warm affection, his smile a touch bittersweet, not smug or lecherous. She wasn't sure whether that was better or worse.
She wanted to blame what had happened on homesickness and a feeling of loneliness so crushing that sometimes it took her breath away. She wanted to blame the glasses of wine she had drunk right before he'd come to her quarters to argue once again about a planet that he and Sheppard wanted to explore and that she had been less then enthusiastic about. She wanted to blame the fact that his was a face well known if not loved, a face from the time when she'd been surrounded by people who were like family and not people who were still virtual strangers. She wanted to blame the fact that in another universe, their counterparts had once been married and she had liked that other Rodney. She wanted to blame the fact that it'd been far too long since someone who cared about her had held her in his arms. But she knew that none of those excuses was the reason it had happened.
She hadn't meant for her gesture to be anything more than a way to shut McKay up, and so when she had put her hand over his mouth to silence the flow of words, she'd been surprised at the flicker of heat she'd felt as his lips slid over the sensitive skin of her palm. She had gasped and drawn her hand back quickly, but Rodney had heard the gasp, saw the gooseflesh that pimpled the skin of her bare arms.
"Sam?" he had said, his eyes wide.
She had licked suddenly dry lips, and his eyes had followed the flicking of her tongue.
"Sam?" he'd said again, his voice just a little rough, and Sam had shivered at the sound, and he saw and stepped forward, their bodies, already too close, now even closer.
He had locked his gaze onto hers; questioning, seeking, and then he had lifted his hand and gently caressed her face.
"Did I ever tell you about the time you saved my life?" he'd asked softly.
"You mean that time I was nearly naked in your hallucination?" she'd asked pulling her face away, breaking contact.
He'd smiled then, looking a little embarrassed and a lot boyish. It was a devastating look for McKay.
"What can I say; you're hot," he'd said with that damned endearingly crooked smile. "Can't blame a guy for imagining you nearly naked."
She'd stepped back, away from his heat, from the gravitational pull of his body. They had just stood there looking at each other, and Sam felt her heart beating far too quickly, knew her breathing was far too rapid. When he stepped forward again, when he caressed her face again, she hadn't pulled away. And when he'd lowered his mouth to hers, she'd closed her eyes and allowed it.
The kiss started gently; utterly, overwhelmingly sweet. When it was finished, he'd pulled back and looked at her, and when he'd lowered his head again, the kiss was less sweet and more demanding; pushy, greedy McKay seeking entrance into her mouth. And she'd allowed it, wanted it, and it was everything she'd never imagined from him, pulling feelings from her she'd never known she'd had. And before she knew it, she was grabbing at his clothes, pushing up his shirt, allowing him to pull up hers.
He'd stripped her quickly, his mouth laying claim to every inch of skin laid bare. Somehow, they'd made it to her bed, and when she felt his weight pushing her down into the mattress, she'd had a moment of clarity. This was Rodney McKay, and she did not want to do this with Rodney McKay. But then his lips had closed around her nipple, and she'd cried out as the pleasure jolted her. He had sucked and licked and nibbled and caressed, unleashing a need too long suppressed, and when his hand had slipped between her thighs, she'd opened for him, and when he'd moved over her, nudged at her opening, she'd raised her legs, tilted her hips, and taken him in.
Afterwards, they had lain together for a bit until she'd pulled away and said, "Rodney."
"Hmmm?" he said sleepily.
"You, um, you need to go now."
He'd opened his eyes, searched her face, sighed, nodded, and sat up. She'd watched as he walked across the room and into her bathroom. She'd gotten up once he was out of the room, hastily pulled her bathrobe around her naked body, and waited uncomfortably, too aware of the musk of sex in the air, of the wetness between her thighs.
When he'd exited the bathroom and began to pull on his clothing, she'd said, "Look, this was a-"
"Mistake," he'd interrupted, his voice flat, not looking at her as he buttoned his trousers. "'It should never have happened, won't ever happen again, yadda yadda yadda.'" He'd looked at her then and smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm a genius, Sam. I figured out that's how you felt when you kicked me out of your bed." He'd finished dressing quickly before she'd been able to formulate any more words. When he reached the door, he had turned back to her, grinned, and said, "By the way, for once my genius failed me. You're even hotter naked than I'd imagined." With a waggle of his eyebrows, he turned, palmed open her door, and left. With a sinking feeling, she'd been sure that by the morning everyone in Atlantis would know that Rodney McKay had finally nailed Samantha Carter.
But that hadn't happened, and as Sam watched Rodney walk out of the conference room beside Sheppard, hands waving in the air to emphasize whatever point he was making, she began to relax.
And she absolutely did not remember the feel of those hands on her body, and she absolutely did not think about the bottle of wine and two glasses that sat on her dresser in her quarters.
The End