Fic | Aren't We A Pair? | Sam/Baal (SG1) [FRM]
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [A pair]
Rating: FRM
Word Count: 3,294
Summary: Sam and Baal make a treaty with a difference
If Sam could have gotten away without telling Landry what was going on, she would have. Bringing up the fact their erstwhile System Lord has made a habit of turning up where he's not wanted results in the general reacting exactly how she feared and it takes her ten minutes to calm him down enough to present a plan she was sure sounded more sane on Baal's Al'kesh.
“He wants to what?” Landry demands in a voice that can probably heard from space.
“Just think about it,” she says. “We want to get rid of the Ori, but we don't want to take out hundreds of people doing it. This is... like the symbiote poison. It takes the battle right to the point we want it.”
Landry shakes his head. “Assuming we can take Baal's word on the matter.”
“He has as much at risk,” Sam points out. “I think we can believe him on this.”
“Do you really think it's worth it?”
Sam hesitates. Of course Landry doesn't know the sort of deal she has with Baal, besides supplying him with the DNA code he needs. She chooses not to bring the other part up.
“I hope so, sir.”
He breathes out through his nose. “Very well. I suppose this way we'll see if the treaty is worth the paper it's written on. But I do not trust him and you shouldn't either.”
She smiles, warmed at his concern. “I'll be careful, sir.”
“Go on, then. Dismissed.”
Sam salutes and immediately heads to the infirmary. Caroline is waiting, clearly brought abreast of developments, and she has a strip of paper in one hand.
“Is this all he needs?” she asks.
“That's what he said.”
She tries to ignore the worried look Caroline gives her. As if isn't not like she's heard the option of virtually everyone in the SGC about Baal and what she's doing. If she sees one more disappointed expression, she's going to shoot someone. Probably him, for getting her in this situation.
Giving Caroline a tight smile, she says, “Well, I'd better get to it.”
As far as Sam's aware, the silver tube nestled in her top drawer is nothing more than a locator chip in fancy packaging. It occurs to her that if that is so, then she could just wrap the printout around it and have nothing to do with Baal beyond that. But while he's claimed that he won't hurt her, she doubts he'll keep such a promise if she pisses him off.
She sighs and picks up the tube. There has to be another element, because just seconds later her stomach drops into her toes as an Asgard beam pulls her aboard his ship.
The outfit of brown leather trousers and cream sweater that he wears does nothing to settle her racing heart. Then again, he could probably wear a sack and still look good. She tries not to imagine what he's like naked.
Looking round, she sees that he's beamed her straight into his lab and that he barely gives her a glance before asking, “You have it?”
Apparently they're not going for small talk. Sam shrugs and hands over the paper. “How long will it take?”
“Not long.” He glances over the printed information and then taps at a keyboard quickly. “My only consideration is how long to set the fuse. An immediate denotation will only serve to alert them, unless I can manage wide-spread delivery.”
Sam leans on the bench and watches the intricate coding scroll up the screen. She understands less than half, but even that is enough to leave her awed. Chewing her lip as she contemplates the level of his intelligence and the problem at hand, she comes up with a possible solution.
“Is there a way of connecting them together? Perhaps if we added a locator chip, then track them until they're in place, then detonate them all at once.”
“That... could work.” Baal thumbs his bottom lip and then looks at her with a smile. “My genius is rubbing off on you.”
“You wish,” she retorts.
“I do,” he says with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. Her cheeks heat and he chuckles. “Wishes shall have to wait, though. I really must finish the adaptations to the bomb coding.”
Sam finds a chair and sits down to watch, since there's nothing she can do but that. If she's honest with herself, she'd rather watch him work anyway - there's an intent concentration to his expression and his fingers move over the keyboard with speed and confidence. This is the side of him she likes, the one she can work with. She just wishes it was present more often.
Her eyes shift to his hair. It's cut shorter than last time, which makes the grey more noticeable. The colour reminds her of his age, though it doesn't make him look older. It doesn't make him look distinguished either, she thinks and coughs to hide a snort of laughter.
If he notices her outburst, he ignores it. However he's so wrapped up in his work, Sam doubts he heard her. She smiles, reminded very much of herself. They do have some things in common, after all.
Suddenly he sits back and rolls his shoulders. “There,” he sighs. “That should do it.”
Sam gets up and moves closer to peer at the screen. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders and there is palpable tension under her palms. She looks down.
“What's up?”
“I am unsure if it will work.”
The confession is grudging and a muscles twitches under her hand. She tightens her grip and digs her thumbs into the knots either side of his spine. Her reward is a deep, throaty groan.
“I thought that you were sure.” She tries to keep censure from her tone as she continues to rub at his tense muscles. “Otherwise, what was the point in my bringing you the code?”
“The theory is sound,” he replies. “However until it's put into practice...” He shrugs, a powerful roll of his shoulders that makes her shiver. “There is no margin for error.”
She sighs. “No, I guess not. How are you planning on distributing them?”
Baal reaches out and clicks a button on his laptop. The screen changes to a star map, which several planets marked out in the same designations the SGC uses. Realising this information was part of what he swindled from her while under duress, her hands go still.
“You can be sure that I have not used this other than to further my plans against the Ori,” he says, clearly guessing the reason for her sudden stillness. “And I kept my oath then.”
“So you did.”
He had barely laid a finger of her. Just threatened every person she cared about. She pulls her hands back, ignoring the itch that makes her want to continue. Baal gives a hard-done-by sigh and swivels the chair so he's facing her.
“So what's the matter now?”
She shakes her head, not wanting to discuss this never mind argue about it. He grabs her wrists. She tries to pull away, but his grip is like iron, the expression on his face determined.
“Let me go,” she says. “Stop-”
He yanks her forward. Losing her balance, she has no choice but catch herself against him. She ends up in his lap, one wrist freed so he can thread fingers into her hair.
This close to him, the only thing she can fight for is to breathe. He arches an eyebrow and thumbs her ear. The grip around her left wrist loosens and he slides his hand up her arm. His eyes never leave hers.
“You're angry with me,” he surmises, quite rightly too. “This is about what I stole from you.”
She wants to look away, but the hand in her hair prevents her unless she wants to cause herself some pain. He trails fingers up and down her arm, raising gooseflesh in its path and causing her blood to fizz. It's highly distracting and she struggles to hold onto the anger he's accused her of feeling.
“You think?” It doesn't snap as she wanted it to, but instead is closer to a whisper. Her eyes are on his lips and her body is reacting to the presence of his. “Get off me.”
“Technically, you're on me,” he says. A smile flickers over his lips and his eyes sparkle with amusement. “I was rather enjoying your ministrations, before you got sulky.”
“Sulky?” Her anger relights and she tries to push up from him. “And yes, this is about then. About you manipulating me and then threatening my friends. About killing air force personnel.”
“Oh, and none of the clones were executed by your people?” His eyes flare and narrow. The hand on her hip tightens to be point of painfulness. “Or is that different because they were copies of me?”
She swallows and chooses not to answer that question. Her eyes go back to the screen and she considers his plan now with what he'd told her then.
“If you'd found Merlin's weapon, would you have really wiped out the galaxy?” Dropping her gaze, she meets his eyes. The light dies and he smiles again. “You could have altered that to take out the Priors.”
He leans back, still smiling that shit-eating grin of self-satisfaction. Sam shakes her head.
“Then why-”
“Didn't I tell you that?” He gives a short laugh. “Would you have believed me, Samantha?”
Point. She sighs. “No.”
He looses his tight grasp and strokes her hip, something close to apology in his eyes. “No, you wouldn't have, so I didn't waste my breath. I would never have harmed the hostages, because negotiation wasn't my escape route. Which you know.”
It sounds utterly reasonable and Sam supposes that from his point of view, it is. She sighs and relaxes against him, her emotions in turmoil.
“What are you doing to me?” she murmurs, achingly aware she should not be this close but unable to force herself away. He uses the slightest pull on her hair to tilt her head back and she meets his eyes. Licks her lips and then whispers his name. “Baal.”
The kiss is slow: light brushes of his lips that tease until she's trembling and desperate for more. She shifts closer and gasps at the hard lump that presses through their clothing. The evidence of his desire changes... something. She's not sure what, but it blazes through her and she winds her arms around his neck and gets serious.
Rough stubble grazes her chin as the kiss becomes deeper, more demanding. More desperate. His hands slid between them and she's aware of him undoing the buttons of her shirt. He hesitates as he reaches the waistband of her trousers, a pause that makes her smile against his mouth.
Sam leans back and yanks her shirt free, shrugs it off her shoulders. Baal makes a grumbling sound at the vest and she's rather in agreement: she has too much clothing on. She drags it up and over her head, then gets to kissing him again as his nimble fingers make short work of her bra clasp.
“You are beautiful,” he says and thumbs the underneath of her breasts. She smiles at the earnest compliment, warmed and surprised that he'd say such a thing. She's about to formulate a response but then he cups her breasts and all she can do moan and arch as he circles both nipples with his thumbs.
“Oh God.”
“Samantha.”
She's not sure if he's answering her inadvertent appeal or just saying her name. His lips work the line of her collarbone and she whimpers, burning with need. To be closer, to feel his skin against hers.
A shudder wracks her and she slides her hands down his back, to the hem of his sweater. He helps her remove it, pulling his arms out of the sleeves and then yanking it over his head. He tosses it somewhere but Sam is too busy ogling his chest to notice where.
“Oh... wow,” she says. He is gorgeous and she thinks of how she'd had him in that interrogation room only to let him go. Damn. She traces her fingers over well-defined pectorals and flat stomach, enjoying the feel of firm, warm flesh beneath her palm.
“Impressed?” he asks, voice dark with humour.
She grins at him. “Oh, very. You're gorgeous.”
“One tries one's best.” His smirk is even more smug than usual, but she can hardly blame him. “Yes,” he says suddenly, making her blink.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yes, the rest of me is as well toned.”
Her cheeks heat. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“It was fairly obvious from your expression.” He tilts his head and smiles wider. “Do you want to see?”
Oh God, yes she does. She wants to know if the erection pressing into her thighs is as impressive as it feels, wants to know just how well they'd fit together. However she is fairly sure there was something else that they should be doing.
“What... what about the bombs?” It's terribly hard to concentrate on anything when he's kneading her breasts like that. “Shouldn't we- Oh.”
His mouth closes on a nipple and every thought flies out of her head.
The room fades to grey, unimportant. All her attention is on the slow wet circles Baal draws on her hot flesh with his tongue. Moan after moan tears from her and she's breathing so hard that her chest hurts.
She drops her head back, eyes closing as pleasure engulfs her in waves. Rocking so that her aching sex presses on the knot of his erection, she gasps at the frisson of sensation. Her stomach clenches and the first delicious flutters of an orgasm tremble up her spine.
“Holy...” She is actually going to come from just his tongue on her breasts and a dry hump. The building tension is too much to take. “Oh fuck.”
“I was...” Baal gasps as she rocks again. “Thinking...”
Whatever he was thinking about seems to have escaped his grasp. He's breathing as hard as she is and his beautifully tanned skin is damp with sweat. Sam arches her back and looks down at him. His expression is faintly bewildered, but his eyes are dark with passion. He growls, a low rough sound at the back of his thought that carries the symbiotic echo and then drags her down to reclaim her mouth.
He tongues the roof, sliding against her teeth in a regular motion that can only be simulating sex. She moans and grinds down harder, wishing the barriers of their clothing away but not prepared to stop long enough to make that wish reality. Pain sparks as he tweaks her nipples, an electric jolt that jabs straight down. Heat pools between her legs, and she just... needs.... a... little...
She breaks from his lips with a cry. He groans and pinches her nipples harder. She pushes down and pleasure rips up her spine, turning her blood to fire and God but it's glorious.
How long it takes her to come down off the most spectacular orgasm she's ever had, Sam has no idea. Reality reorders itself and she finds that she's collapsed in Baal's arms, utterly boneless and immobile.
His ragged breathing is out of time with hers, a rough counterpoint, and under the hand she has pressed to his chest she can feel the thundering beat of his heart. There is no sign of his usual cool, detached demeanour and it excites her that she did that to him. The ability to make a God lose control is a heady power that she could definitely get used to.
Ice slides down her spine as she realises what they've just done. She raises her head and stares at him.
“Oh.”
He blinks slowly. “Too late,” he murmurs.
She knows it is. She just doesn't know what happens now. “Yeah.”
“Regrets?”
His voice is soft, almost gentle. She wonders if he does, because even as she thinks about it...
“Yeah,” she says and kisses his lips. “I regret the lack of a bed and more naked.”
Baal blinks again and then the grin is back. “Oh really? Well, perhaps I could accommodate you later.”
The embers of her orgasm flare and Sam knows that given the choice that she'd say yes, even though it's more kinds of wrong than she can count.
“We're going to get into so much trouble.” She rolls her eyes and corrects herself. “I'm going to get into trouble. I think I just broke half a dozen regulations.”
“You are on my ship, which counts as my territory. Can't you claim diplomatic immunity or something?”
She laughs. “No. Your ship or not, I'm still... fraternising with the enemy.”
“Enemy?” His expression is comically innocent. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” She kisses him again, because she likes doing that. “Or are you claiming to be our ally again?”
“If it gets me a special relationship, most assuredly.”
Sam can't help it: she dissolves into giggles. He is absolutely ridiculous, absolutely shameless. And utterly irresistible.
“You're impossible, you know that right?” She strokes a hand over his hair. “And we really shouldn't be doing this.”
He sobers. “I know. Or rather, I know that you shouldn't. Sam, I-”
She silences him with another kiss. “My choice,” she tells him when she pulls back. “Just promise that you won't go being ridiculous on base and letting everyone know, and I'll handle the rest.”
“Are you sure?”
He looks as surprised as he sounds, which is probably about as surprised as she feels. But she's not taking it back now.
“We work well together,” she reminds him with a smile. “And I'd much rather fuck than fight.”
“Point taken.”
“So...” She leans in and nibbles at his earlobe. He shudders. “Do we have a deal?”
“I think I can abide by those terms, yes.”
Sam chuckles. All it's taken to secure the safety of Earth from Baal's manipulations is the promise to sleep with him, and she wonders why she didn't come up with this idea sooner.
“Now about those bombs,” she says. “Save the galaxy, then we can... ah, seal our deal in celebration?”
He laughs and pulls her in for a long kiss that makes her reconsider the order of things. When he releases her, he grins and says, “That, my sweet, sounds like the best plan you've ever had. Let's get it on. I mean, on with it.”
It's awful and she rolls her eyes. Ducks her head down to his shoulder and gives a soft chuckle.
She should, possibly feel guiltier about what she's doing, but if he does behave, then it's worth a little rule-breaking to get him on their side. Especially if his plan with the bombs works, which she doesn't doubt.
Whether Landry and the IOA are going to agree with her on the matter is a whole different question, but not one she needs to face yet.
Characters: Sam Carter, Baal
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [A pair]
Rating: FRM
Word Count: 3,294
Summary: Sam and Baal make a treaty with a difference
If Sam could have gotten away without telling Landry what was going on, she would have. Bringing up the fact their erstwhile System Lord has made a habit of turning up where he's not wanted results in the general reacting exactly how she feared and it takes her ten minutes to calm him down enough to present a plan she was sure sounded more sane on Baal's Al'kesh.
“He wants to what?” Landry demands in a voice that can probably heard from space.
“Just think about it,” she says. “We want to get rid of the Ori, but we don't want to take out hundreds of people doing it. This is... like the symbiote poison. It takes the battle right to the point we want it.”
Landry shakes his head. “Assuming we can take Baal's word on the matter.”
“He has as much at risk,” Sam points out. “I think we can believe him on this.”
“Do you really think it's worth it?”
Sam hesitates. Of course Landry doesn't know the sort of deal she has with Baal, besides supplying him with the DNA code he needs. She chooses not to bring the other part up.
“I hope so, sir.”
He breathes out through his nose. “Very well. I suppose this way we'll see if the treaty is worth the paper it's written on. But I do not trust him and you shouldn't either.”
She smiles, warmed at his concern. “I'll be careful, sir.”
“Go on, then. Dismissed.”
Sam salutes and immediately heads to the infirmary. Caroline is waiting, clearly brought abreast of developments, and she has a strip of paper in one hand.
“Is this all he needs?” she asks.
“That's what he said.”
She tries to ignore the worried look Caroline gives her. As if isn't not like she's heard the option of virtually everyone in the SGC about Baal and what she's doing. If she sees one more disappointed expression, she's going to shoot someone. Probably him, for getting her in this situation.
Giving Caroline a tight smile, she says, “Well, I'd better get to it.”
As far as Sam's aware, the silver tube nestled in her top drawer is nothing more than a locator chip in fancy packaging. It occurs to her that if that is so, then she could just wrap the printout around it and have nothing to do with Baal beyond that. But while he's claimed that he won't hurt her, she doubts he'll keep such a promise if she pisses him off.
She sighs and picks up the tube. There has to be another element, because just seconds later her stomach drops into her toes as an Asgard beam pulls her aboard his ship.
The outfit of brown leather trousers and cream sweater that he wears does nothing to settle her racing heart. Then again, he could probably wear a sack and still look good. She tries not to imagine what he's like naked.
Looking round, she sees that he's beamed her straight into his lab and that he barely gives her a glance before asking, “You have it?”
Apparently they're not going for small talk. Sam shrugs and hands over the paper. “How long will it take?”
“Not long.” He glances over the printed information and then taps at a keyboard quickly. “My only consideration is how long to set the fuse. An immediate denotation will only serve to alert them, unless I can manage wide-spread delivery.”
Sam leans on the bench and watches the intricate coding scroll up the screen. She understands less than half, but even that is enough to leave her awed. Chewing her lip as she contemplates the level of his intelligence and the problem at hand, she comes up with a possible solution.
“Is there a way of connecting them together? Perhaps if we added a locator chip, then track them until they're in place, then detonate them all at once.”
“That... could work.” Baal thumbs his bottom lip and then looks at her with a smile. “My genius is rubbing off on you.”
“You wish,” she retorts.
“I do,” he says with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. Her cheeks heat and he chuckles. “Wishes shall have to wait, though. I really must finish the adaptations to the bomb coding.”
Sam finds a chair and sits down to watch, since there's nothing she can do but that. If she's honest with herself, she'd rather watch him work anyway - there's an intent concentration to his expression and his fingers move over the keyboard with speed and confidence. This is the side of him she likes, the one she can work with. She just wishes it was present more often.
Her eyes shift to his hair. It's cut shorter than last time, which makes the grey more noticeable. The colour reminds her of his age, though it doesn't make him look older. It doesn't make him look distinguished either, she thinks and coughs to hide a snort of laughter.
If he notices her outburst, he ignores it. However he's so wrapped up in his work, Sam doubts he heard her. She smiles, reminded very much of herself. They do have some things in common, after all.
Suddenly he sits back and rolls his shoulders. “There,” he sighs. “That should do it.”
Sam gets up and moves closer to peer at the screen. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders and there is palpable tension under her palms. She looks down.
“What's up?”
“I am unsure if it will work.”
The confession is grudging and a muscles twitches under her hand. She tightens her grip and digs her thumbs into the knots either side of his spine. Her reward is a deep, throaty groan.
“I thought that you were sure.” She tries to keep censure from her tone as she continues to rub at his tense muscles. “Otherwise, what was the point in my bringing you the code?”
“The theory is sound,” he replies. “However until it's put into practice...” He shrugs, a powerful roll of his shoulders that makes her shiver. “There is no margin for error.”
She sighs. “No, I guess not. How are you planning on distributing them?”
Baal reaches out and clicks a button on his laptop. The screen changes to a star map, which several planets marked out in the same designations the SGC uses. Realising this information was part of what he swindled from her while under duress, her hands go still.
“You can be sure that I have not used this other than to further my plans against the Ori,” he says, clearly guessing the reason for her sudden stillness. “And I kept my oath then.”
“So you did.”
He had barely laid a finger of her. Just threatened every person she cared about. She pulls her hands back, ignoring the itch that makes her want to continue. Baal gives a hard-done-by sigh and swivels the chair so he's facing her.
“So what's the matter now?”
She shakes her head, not wanting to discuss this never mind argue about it. He grabs her wrists. She tries to pull away, but his grip is like iron, the expression on his face determined.
“Let me go,” she says. “Stop-”
He yanks her forward. Losing her balance, she has no choice but catch herself against him. She ends up in his lap, one wrist freed so he can thread fingers into her hair.
This close to him, the only thing she can fight for is to breathe. He arches an eyebrow and thumbs her ear. The grip around her left wrist loosens and he slides his hand up her arm. His eyes never leave hers.
“You're angry with me,” he surmises, quite rightly too. “This is about what I stole from you.”
She wants to look away, but the hand in her hair prevents her unless she wants to cause herself some pain. He trails fingers up and down her arm, raising gooseflesh in its path and causing her blood to fizz. It's highly distracting and she struggles to hold onto the anger he's accused her of feeling.
“You think?” It doesn't snap as she wanted it to, but instead is closer to a whisper. Her eyes are on his lips and her body is reacting to the presence of his. “Get off me.”
“Technically, you're on me,” he says. A smile flickers over his lips and his eyes sparkle with amusement. “I was rather enjoying your ministrations, before you got sulky.”
“Sulky?” Her anger relights and she tries to push up from him. “And yes, this is about then. About you manipulating me and then threatening my friends. About killing air force personnel.”
“Oh, and none of the clones were executed by your people?” His eyes flare and narrow. The hand on her hip tightens to be point of painfulness. “Or is that different because they were copies of me?”
She swallows and chooses not to answer that question. Her eyes go back to the screen and she considers his plan now with what he'd told her then.
“If you'd found Merlin's weapon, would you have really wiped out the galaxy?” Dropping her gaze, she meets his eyes. The light dies and he smiles again. “You could have altered that to take out the Priors.”
He leans back, still smiling that shit-eating grin of self-satisfaction. Sam shakes her head.
“Then why-”
“Didn't I tell you that?” He gives a short laugh. “Would you have believed me, Samantha?”
Point. She sighs. “No.”
He looses his tight grasp and strokes her hip, something close to apology in his eyes. “No, you wouldn't have, so I didn't waste my breath. I would never have harmed the hostages, because negotiation wasn't my escape route. Which you know.”
It sounds utterly reasonable and Sam supposes that from his point of view, it is. She sighs and relaxes against him, her emotions in turmoil.
“What are you doing to me?” she murmurs, achingly aware she should not be this close but unable to force herself away. He uses the slightest pull on her hair to tilt her head back and she meets his eyes. Licks her lips and then whispers his name. “Baal.”
The kiss is slow: light brushes of his lips that tease until she's trembling and desperate for more. She shifts closer and gasps at the hard lump that presses through their clothing. The evidence of his desire changes... something. She's not sure what, but it blazes through her and she winds her arms around his neck and gets serious.
Rough stubble grazes her chin as the kiss becomes deeper, more demanding. More desperate. His hands slid between them and she's aware of him undoing the buttons of her shirt. He hesitates as he reaches the waistband of her trousers, a pause that makes her smile against his mouth.
Sam leans back and yanks her shirt free, shrugs it off her shoulders. Baal makes a grumbling sound at the vest and she's rather in agreement: she has too much clothing on. She drags it up and over her head, then gets to kissing him again as his nimble fingers make short work of her bra clasp.
“You are beautiful,” he says and thumbs the underneath of her breasts. She smiles at the earnest compliment, warmed and surprised that he'd say such a thing. She's about to formulate a response but then he cups her breasts and all she can do moan and arch as he circles both nipples with his thumbs.
“Oh God.”
“Samantha.”
She's not sure if he's answering her inadvertent appeal or just saying her name. His lips work the line of her collarbone and she whimpers, burning with need. To be closer, to feel his skin against hers.
A shudder wracks her and she slides her hands down his back, to the hem of his sweater. He helps her remove it, pulling his arms out of the sleeves and then yanking it over his head. He tosses it somewhere but Sam is too busy ogling his chest to notice where.
“Oh... wow,” she says. He is gorgeous and she thinks of how she'd had him in that interrogation room only to let him go. Damn. She traces her fingers over well-defined pectorals and flat stomach, enjoying the feel of firm, warm flesh beneath her palm.
“Impressed?” he asks, voice dark with humour.
She grins at him. “Oh, very. You're gorgeous.”
“One tries one's best.” His smirk is even more smug than usual, but she can hardly blame him. “Yes,” he says suddenly, making her blink.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yes, the rest of me is as well toned.”
Her cheeks heat. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
“It was fairly obvious from your expression.” He tilts his head and smiles wider. “Do you want to see?”
Oh God, yes she does. She wants to know if the erection pressing into her thighs is as impressive as it feels, wants to know just how well they'd fit together. However she is fairly sure there was something else that they should be doing.
“What... what about the bombs?” It's terribly hard to concentrate on anything when he's kneading her breasts like that. “Shouldn't we- Oh.”
His mouth closes on a nipple and every thought flies out of her head.
The room fades to grey, unimportant. All her attention is on the slow wet circles Baal draws on her hot flesh with his tongue. Moan after moan tears from her and she's breathing so hard that her chest hurts.
She drops her head back, eyes closing as pleasure engulfs her in waves. Rocking so that her aching sex presses on the knot of his erection, she gasps at the frisson of sensation. Her stomach clenches and the first delicious flutters of an orgasm tremble up her spine.
“Holy...” She is actually going to come from just his tongue on her breasts and a dry hump. The building tension is too much to take. “Oh fuck.”
“I was...” Baal gasps as she rocks again. “Thinking...”
Whatever he was thinking about seems to have escaped his grasp. He's breathing as hard as she is and his beautifully tanned skin is damp with sweat. Sam arches her back and looks down at him. His expression is faintly bewildered, but his eyes are dark with passion. He growls, a low rough sound at the back of his thought that carries the symbiotic echo and then drags her down to reclaim her mouth.
He tongues the roof, sliding against her teeth in a regular motion that can only be simulating sex. She moans and grinds down harder, wishing the barriers of their clothing away but not prepared to stop long enough to make that wish reality. Pain sparks as he tweaks her nipples, an electric jolt that jabs straight down. Heat pools between her legs, and she just... needs.... a... little...
She breaks from his lips with a cry. He groans and pinches her nipples harder. She pushes down and pleasure rips up her spine, turning her blood to fire and God but it's glorious.
How long it takes her to come down off the most spectacular orgasm she's ever had, Sam has no idea. Reality reorders itself and she finds that she's collapsed in Baal's arms, utterly boneless and immobile.
His ragged breathing is out of time with hers, a rough counterpoint, and under the hand she has pressed to his chest she can feel the thundering beat of his heart. There is no sign of his usual cool, detached demeanour and it excites her that she did that to him. The ability to make a God lose control is a heady power that she could definitely get used to.
Ice slides down her spine as she realises what they've just done. She raises her head and stares at him.
“Oh.”
He blinks slowly. “Too late,” he murmurs.
She knows it is. She just doesn't know what happens now. “Yeah.”
“Regrets?”
His voice is soft, almost gentle. She wonders if he does, because even as she thinks about it...
“Yeah,” she says and kisses his lips. “I regret the lack of a bed and more naked.”
Baal blinks again and then the grin is back. “Oh really? Well, perhaps I could accommodate you later.”
The embers of her orgasm flare and Sam knows that given the choice that she'd say yes, even though it's more kinds of wrong than she can count.
“We're going to get into so much trouble.” She rolls her eyes and corrects herself. “I'm going to get into trouble. I think I just broke half a dozen regulations.”
“You are on my ship, which counts as my territory. Can't you claim diplomatic immunity or something?”
She laughs. “No. Your ship or not, I'm still... fraternising with the enemy.”
“Enemy?” His expression is comically innocent. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” She kisses him again, because she likes doing that. “Or are you claiming to be our ally again?”
“If it gets me a special relationship, most assuredly.”
Sam can't help it: she dissolves into giggles. He is absolutely ridiculous, absolutely shameless. And utterly irresistible.
“You're impossible, you know that right?” She strokes a hand over his hair. “And we really shouldn't be doing this.”
He sobers. “I know. Or rather, I know that you shouldn't. Sam, I-”
She silences him with another kiss. “My choice,” she tells him when she pulls back. “Just promise that you won't go being ridiculous on base and letting everyone know, and I'll handle the rest.”
“Are you sure?”
He looks as surprised as he sounds, which is probably about as surprised as she feels. But she's not taking it back now.
“We work well together,” she reminds him with a smile. “And I'd much rather fuck than fight.”
“Point taken.”
“So...” She leans in and nibbles at his earlobe. He shudders. “Do we have a deal?”
“I think I can abide by those terms, yes.”
Sam chuckles. All it's taken to secure the safety of Earth from Baal's manipulations is the promise to sleep with him, and she wonders why she didn't come up with this idea sooner.
“Now about those bombs,” she says. “Save the galaxy, then we can... ah, seal our deal in celebration?”
He laughs and pulls her in for a long kiss that makes her reconsider the order of things. When he releases her, he grins and says, “That, my sweet, sounds like the best plan you've ever had. Let's get it on. I mean, on with it.”
It's awful and she rolls her eyes. Ducks her head down to his shoulder and gives a soft chuckle.
She should, possibly feel guiltier about what she's doing, but if he does behave, then it's worth a little rule-breaking to get him on their side. Especially if his plan with the bombs works, which she doesn't doubt.
Whether Landry and the IOA are going to agree with her on the matter is a whole different question, but not one she needs to face yet.