SGA fic: Solace, Weir/Caldwell,
Title: Solace
Pairing: Weir/Caldwell
Rating: R
Disclaimer: don't own these characters, just borrowing them.
Word count: 1314
Notes: written for non_mcsmooch January 2010. Unbeta'd, but by me, so if there are issues, let me know.
She thought he’d go, after their business was finished. She was tired, frustrated with the events of the day and pretty much at her wits’ end, but some perverse part of her wasn’t ready to be alone just yet. And Stephen had proved to be better company than she’d anticipated - surprising her with a show of support and compassion. Still, she expected him to cite some business pulling him away, back to the Daedalus, but he gave her a brief smile, pointed at her computer and said, “Does that thing have chess?”
“Yes,” she said. And they’d played for more than an hour, at times in quiet concentration, other times discussing the various weights of responsibility they shared, until he finished her off in an unexpected and utterly clever strategy. Knowing she was defeated, she digitally conceded the game, smiling at him and said, “Thank you, Colonel, for the game. And the company.”
“Not willing to risk another defeat at the hands of a master military strategist?” he asked her.
She laughed. “Don’t brag, Colonel. It’s not that, just..it’s past my bed time.” She shut down her laptop, and stood.
“You mean you have one of those?” he asked, rising as well. “No,” he waved her off when she started to speak. “I understand, Dr. Weir, I do. Too many responsibilities lead to too many sleepless nights. You should get some rest while you can. Would you like an escort to your quarters?”
She pondered it a moment, then gave a single nod. “Sure.”
As she came around the corner of the desk, he braced her with a hand between her shoulders then let it slide to the small of her back. She relaxed into the touch for a moment, her body craving the contact then, regaining some semblance of her reserve, she stepped away.
“Colonel,” she said, glancing up at him, knowing that despite what her body wanted, she couldn’t lead him on.
“Stephen.”
She smiled at the correction. “Stephen. Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, but-”
“You mean walking you to your quarters?” He was the picture of honesty. She wanted to believe him, but he so rarely touched her, she had to be sure.
“Is that all this is?”
He ran his gaze over her, assessing, then he said, “If that’s all you want.”
She swallowed thickly, nodded and said, “Yes.” She hoped it sounded like the truth.
He smiled back at her, and waved her forward out of her office. “Then that’s all I’m doing, Elizabeth.”
She walked out of the office ahead of him, sensing his stalwart presence behind her. He was so strong, so solid, and she knew he wanted her. The heat in his eyes after the chess match was undeniable. She slowed her pace a bit, wanting to prolong their trek through the city, to absorb his companionship and strength just that much longer, to feel the heat and strength of him for just long enough to let it seep into and fortify her. She was so weary.
They maintained an easy silence through the halls of Atlantis, arms occasionally brushing against one another. And every time they touched, casually, accidentally, she wanted to linger there, hold their arms still, their fingers. Wanted him to take her hand and just be there, in the moment, and feel it swell around them both. But too soon, they were at her quarters and finally had to stop.
She turned to him, hands clasped together in front of her. “Thank you, Stephen,” she whispered, her words coming out trembly. Tension coiled in her gut, and she eased in a breath to calm herself.
He stepped into her space, eyes searching her face. Finally, he whispered, “Good night, Elizabeth,” and turned to go.
“Would you like to come in?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked, but couldn’t take the words back - even if she’d wanted to. She wanted him to come inside. For the last two hours, his presence had been a balm to her, lightening the burden of her responsibilities with his easy smile, drawing her out, supporting her and giving her strength. She wasn’t ready to let that go. Not yet.
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at her, dark eyes hot on her face. “Are you sure?”
She never in her life been more sure of anything - except walking through the gate to come to Atlantis. She’d been frightened then but absolutely positive that it was the right thing for her. She was frightened now again but felt that to let him walk away would be wrong.
She couldn’t speak, not without her voice breaking, so she simply nodded and opened her door, waiting.
He stepped up into her space, crowded her back into her room and waited for the door to close. “Lock it,” he said.
She fumbled a hand over the control crystals, not for the first time wishing she, too, had the gene to control Atlantis with a thought.
The snick of the lock engaging had him moving forward, guiding her back until she was pressed against the wall.
The metal of Atlantis’ walls warmed quickly against her skin, and Stephen pressed up close against her, warming her from the front. She should have been afraid of him, of his size and forcefulness, but she relaxed against him, as though her body recognized the comfort he could give her.
She looked into his eyes, but they were glancing all over her face, flicking back and forth as he drank in the sight of her. She opened her mouth to speak.
He didn’t let her.
His hands splayed over her cheeks, and he kissed her. Kissed her like he was devouring her, like she was water and he’d been in the desert for far too long. He opened his mouth over hers, slanting kisses over her lips as he slid his tongue into her mouth.
He was all around her, his heat and scent nearly suffocating her. It wasn’t enough. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him tight into her. He fit a heavy thigh between hers, and she rode his thigh, striving for more friction, unsatisfied because of the thick canvas of his flight suit and the polyester of her work slacks.
His hands slipped into her hair, pulling her head back, while he bit kisses along her jaw to her ear, and over her throat.
“Stephen,” she whispered, voice hoarse and low. Her hands gripped his waist, seeking ground to steady her, as her hips continued to rock back and forth on his thigh.
He kissed her again, a brush of his mouth over hers, his nose rubbing alongside hers, eyes opened, staring into hers.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his lips ghosting against hers with her name. He let his hands fall down the graceful, lean curve of her arm to settle at her waist and guide her movement.
She wanted him to touch her, to slide his fingers against her cool skin, under her shirt and up over her ribs, over her breasts. Her skin goosed up, craving him. But she caught his elbows, keeping him at her waist. “I don’t think,” she started.
He kissed her again. “Then don’t,” he said, and bent to pick her up, one arm beneath her knees the other at her shoulders. She clung to his neck, burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder. She knew she should protest, but couldn’t. She wanted this too much to say ‘no,’ and when he laid her down on her bed and covered her with his body, it was her hand that started undressing him.
She needed the comfort he was offering and for once, she was going to take what was offered her. If she regretted it in the soft light of Atlantis’ morning, well, that would be between her and water.
Pairing: Weir/Caldwell
Rating: R
Disclaimer: don't own these characters, just borrowing them.
Word count: 1314
Notes: written for non_mcsmooch January 2010. Unbeta'd, but by me, so if there are issues, let me know.
She thought he’d go, after their business was finished. She was tired, frustrated with the events of the day and pretty much at her wits’ end, but some perverse part of her wasn’t ready to be alone just yet. And Stephen had proved to be better company than she’d anticipated - surprising her with a show of support and compassion. Still, she expected him to cite some business pulling him away, back to the Daedalus, but he gave her a brief smile, pointed at her computer and said, “Does that thing have chess?”
“Yes,” she said. And they’d played for more than an hour, at times in quiet concentration, other times discussing the various weights of responsibility they shared, until he finished her off in an unexpected and utterly clever strategy. Knowing she was defeated, she digitally conceded the game, smiling at him and said, “Thank you, Colonel, for the game. And the company.”
“Not willing to risk another defeat at the hands of a master military strategist?” he asked her.
She laughed. “Don’t brag, Colonel. It’s not that, just..it’s past my bed time.” She shut down her laptop, and stood.
“You mean you have one of those?” he asked, rising as well. “No,” he waved her off when she started to speak. “I understand, Dr. Weir, I do. Too many responsibilities lead to too many sleepless nights. You should get some rest while you can. Would you like an escort to your quarters?”
She pondered it a moment, then gave a single nod. “Sure.”
As she came around the corner of the desk, he braced her with a hand between her shoulders then let it slide to the small of her back. She relaxed into the touch for a moment, her body craving the contact then, regaining some semblance of her reserve, she stepped away.
“Colonel,” she said, glancing up at him, knowing that despite what her body wanted, she couldn’t lead him on.
“Stephen.”
She smiled at the correction. “Stephen. Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, but-”
“You mean walking you to your quarters?” He was the picture of honesty. She wanted to believe him, but he so rarely touched her, she had to be sure.
“Is that all this is?”
He ran his gaze over her, assessing, then he said, “If that’s all you want.”
She swallowed thickly, nodded and said, “Yes.” She hoped it sounded like the truth.
He smiled back at her, and waved her forward out of her office. “Then that’s all I’m doing, Elizabeth.”
She walked out of the office ahead of him, sensing his stalwart presence behind her. He was so strong, so solid, and she knew he wanted her. The heat in his eyes after the chess match was undeniable. She slowed her pace a bit, wanting to prolong their trek through the city, to absorb his companionship and strength just that much longer, to feel the heat and strength of him for just long enough to let it seep into and fortify her. She was so weary.
They maintained an easy silence through the halls of Atlantis, arms occasionally brushing against one another. And every time they touched, casually, accidentally, she wanted to linger there, hold their arms still, their fingers. Wanted him to take her hand and just be there, in the moment, and feel it swell around them both. But too soon, they were at her quarters and finally had to stop.
She turned to him, hands clasped together in front of her. “Thank you, Stephen,” she whispered, her words coming out trembly. Tension coiled in her gut, and she eased in a breath to calm herself.
He stepped into her space, eyes searching her face. Finally, he whispered, “Good night, Elizabeth,” and turned to go.
“Would you like to come in?” She couldn’t believe she’d asked, but couldn’t take the words back - even if she’d wanted to. She wanted him to come inside. For the last two hours, his presence had been a balm to her, lightening the burden of her responsibilities with his easy smile, drawing her out, supporting her and giving her strength. She wasn’t ready to let that go. Not yet.
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder at her, dark eyes hot on her face. “Are you sure?”
She never in her life been more sure of anything - except walking through the gate to come to Atlantis. She’d been frightened then but absolutely positive that it was the right thing for her. She was frightened now again but felt that to let him walk away would be wrong.
She couldn’t speak, not without her voice breaking, so she simply nodded and opened her door, waiting.
He stepped up into her space, crowded her back into her room and waited for the door to close. “Lock it,” he said.
She fumbled a hand over the control crystals, not for the first time wishing she, too, had the gene to control Atlantis with a thought.
The snick of the lock engaging had him moving forward, guiding her back until she was pressed against the wall.
The metal of Atlantis’ walls warmed quickly against her skin, and Stephen pressed up close against her, warming her from the front. She should have been afraid of him, of his size and forcefulness, but she relaxed against him, as though her body recognized the comfort he could give her.
She looked into his eyes, but they were glancing all over her face, flicking back and forth as he drank in the sight of her. She opened her mouth to speak.
He didn’t let her.
His hands splayed over her cheeks, and he kissed her. Kissed her like he was devouring her, like she was water and he’d been in the desert for far too long. He opened his mouth over hers, slanting kisses over her lips as he slid his tongue into her mouth.
He was all around her, his heat and scent nearly suffocating her. It wasn’t enough. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him tight into her. He fit a heavy thigh between hers, and she rode his thigh, striving for more friction, unsatisfied because of the thick canvas of his flight suit and the polyester of her work slacks.
His hands slipped into her hair, pulling her head back, while he bit kisses along her jaw to her ear, and over her throat.
“Stephen,” she whispered, voice hoarse and low. Her hands gripped his waist, seeking ground to steady her, as her hips continued to rock back and forth on his thigh.
He kissed her again, a brush of his mouth over hers, his nose rubbing alongside hers, eyes opened, staring into hers.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his lips ghosting against hers with her name. He let his hands fall down the graceful, lean curve of her arm to settle at her waist and guide her movement.
She wanted him to touch her, to slide his fingers against her cool skin, under her shirt and up over her ribs, over her breasts. Her skin goosed up, craving him. But she caught his elbows, keeping him at her waist. “I don’t think,” she started.
He kissed her again. “Then don’t,” he said, and bent to pick her up, one arm beneath her knees the other at her shoulders. She clung to his neck, burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder. She knew she should protest, but couldn’t. She wanted this too much to say ‘no,’ and when he laid her down on her bed and covered her with his body, it was her hand that started undressing him.
She needed the comfort he was offering and for once, she was going to take what was offered her. If she regretted it in the soft light of Atlantis’ morning, well, that would be between her and water.