Grace, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Cameron/Derek, graceoxoniensisJanuary 25 2009, 18:50:03 UTC
Derek watches her. He doesn't trust her, and he tells himself that's why he always watches her, in case she goes crazy, in case her chip malfunctions.
She fascinates him, though. He knows her strength, he knows her origins, and yet she still surprises him. She's so graceful and delicate, the way she dances, practicing perfect moves until they're good enough to satisfy her, the way she stands in the yard and watches a butterfly with what looks like awe on her face. Sometimes, he can almost forget.
He finds her naked in his bed one night, comforter thrown to the floor. There's blood on the sheets, and blood on her. It could be anyone's. There's dirt on her hands too, but she doesn't smell of dirt or sweat, or anything.
He wants to shout at her, to order her out of his room (out of their lives) but he can't. He just stares. She's very beautiful, skin flawless and pale even against the white sheets, her little dark nipples erect in the chill air. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow. He can't look away.
"I've seen you watching me," Cameron says, her eyes focused on him. He feels as though she can see right through him. "Your heart rate goes up and your pupils dilate and you become sexually aroused."
"So?" he bites out, not bothering to argue with her. She's a machine, he won't waste his time arguing.
"It's detrimental to the team if you're sexually unsatisfied. You're less efficient."
Derek laughs sourly. "So, what, this," - he points to her, spread out for him - "this is you taking one for the team?"
"Is that what it's called?" she asks. "Then yes, I'm taking one for the team."
"Okay," he says, because he's hard and aching and sometimes it doesn't matter what she is. Sometimes she's beauty and grace and so desirable he aches for wanting her.
It's easy. He pulls down his pants and he lifts her legs up over his shoulders and he fucks her. He pounds into her so hard he thinks she'd screamed if she were human. He can't be gentle, he has to remember she's metal, unbreakable.
She doesn't scream or make any sound, just says his name, once. "Derek," she says, and shudders around him. She's warm and tight, and her waist is tiny under his hands, and her feet curl against his shoulder blades. It feels real, as real as the moment his balls tighten and he comes deep inside her. He pulls out, and a trail of come slides down the wet slick of her cunt. He traces it with his finger while she watches him, curious, until he moves away and pulls up his pants, buckling his belt with sharp movements. He's not sure if he's ashamed or not, but he thinks he should be.
"You're angry with me," she says calmly as she slips on her own clothes, "but you will be more efficient now." She leaves his room, closing the door quietly behind her.
She's wrong, human emotions too complex for her. She reads pulse rates and temperature and extrapolates, but some emotions are too complex to make sense of that way. He isn't angry with her, but with himself, for seeing her for what she is and still wanting her. For still watching her, and still lying to himself about why he watches her.
He sees her through his window, later, walking the boundaries of their yard. When she's finished, she stands in the middle of the grass and dances. He watches until he's too tired to keep his eyes open, but she's still dancing.
Re: Grace, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Cameron/Derek, gracenargynargyJanuary 25 2009, 23:03:49 UTC
I love how you took the prompt, and twisted it into Derek's desire - so well written man. I especially liked Cameron dancing at the end because the canon scene made me shiver.
Re: Grace, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Cameron/Derek, graceoxoniensisJanuary 25 2009, 23:27:52 UTC
Thank you so much! It was strange, because I had to talk myself into the pairing as I was writing it (which is always a fun writing exercise), so I'm really glad it felt convincing.
She fascinates him, though. He knows her strength, he knows her origins, and yet she still surprises him. She's so graceful and delicate, the way she dances, practicing perfect moves until they're good enough to satisfy her, the way she stands in the yard and watches a butterfly with what looks like awe on her face. Sometimes, he can almost forget.
He finds her naked in his bed one night, comforter thrown to the floor. There's blood on the sheets, and blood on her. It could be anyone's. There's dirt on her hands too, but she doesn't smell of dirt or sweat, or anything.
He wants to shout at her, to order her out of his room (out of their lives) but he can't. He just stares. She's very beautiful, skin flawless and pale even against the white sheets, her little dark nipples erect in the chill air. Her hair is fanned out on the pillow. He can't look away.
"I've seen you watching me," Cameron says, her eyes focused on him. He feels as though she can see right through him. "Your heart rate goes up and your pupils dilate and you become sexually aroused."
"So?" he bites out, not bothering to argue with her. She's a machine, he won't waste his time arguing.
"It's detrimental to the team if you're sexually unsatisfied. You're less efficient."
Derek laughs sourly. "So, what, this," - he points to her, spread out for him - "this is you taking one for the team?"
"Is that what it's called?" she asks. "Then yes, I'm taking one for the team."
"Okay," he says, because he's hard and aching and sometimes it doesn't matter what she is. Sometimes she's beauty and grace and so desirable he aches for wanting her.
It's easy. He pulls down his pants and he lifts her legs up over his shoulders and he fucks her. He pounds into her so hard he thinks she'd screamed if she were human. He can't be gentle, he has to remember she's metal, unbreakable.
She doesn't scream or make any sound, just says his name, once. "Derek," she says, and shudders around him. She's warm and tight, and her waist is tiny under his hands, and her feet curl against his shoulder blades. It feels real, as real as the moment his balls tighten and he comes deep inside her. He pulls out, and a trail of come slides down the wet slick of her cunt. He traces it with his finger while she watches him, curious, until he moves away and pulls up his pants, buckling his belt with sharp movements. He's not sure if he's ashamed or not, but he thinks he should be.
"You're angry with me," she says calmly as she slips on her own clothes, "but you will be more efficient now." She leaves his room, closing the door quietly behind her.
She's wrong, human emotions too complex for her. She reads pulse rates and temperature and extrapolates, but some emotions are too complex to make sense of that way. He isn't angry with her, but with himself, for seeing her for what she is and still wanting her. For still watching her, and still lying to himself about why he watches her.
He sees her through his window, later, walking the boundaries of their yard. When she's finished, she stands in the middle of the grass and dances. He watches until he's too tired to keep his eyes open, but she's still dancing.
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And I like how she takes one for the team in order for him to perform better.
Poor conflicted Derek.
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