Crutch (Adult) Sam/Cam
Title: Crutch
Author: rolleson
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: ADULT
Character/Pairing: Sam/Cam
Spoilers: None really.
Warnings: Sex.
Summery: Written for lizardbeth_j.
Prompt: Three Things You Want To See: lockpicking or motorcycles, a bit of
h/c, hopefully smut
Three Things You Do NOT Want To See: references to Jack/Sam
Notes: Thanks to mayogate for the beta. 3150 words.
“This is my motorbike. One of them.” Sam said, stretching her arms out.
“I can see that.” Cam answered, arms folded, eyebrow raised. Stood outside the front of her house he’d gotten cold waiting for her to change into leathers and bring a bike around from the back. It was worth the wait, but he could do without the shrinkage down below when he was about to be sat behind her, pressed up against her.
“You get on, like this.” She swung a leg up high and over the bike, settling on the seat with a grin.
“Cute,” he said, “do you do the splits as well?”
“I haven’t tried for a while,” she told him, “maybe later.”
“You were in the gymnastics teams weren’t you?”
“No, field hockey. I preferred the little skirts.”
“Ah.” He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“You’re thinking about me in a hockey skirt aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He said laughing.
“Just get on the bike Cam.” She said, throwing a helmet at him and hitting him square in the stomach.
“Good shot,” he coughed out, doubling over for a moment, holding the helmet in his arms.
“I was top scorer in the academy.” She said, pulling on her own helmet over her blonde hair. “Still was last time I checked.”
He didn’t answer and climbed on the bike behind her, with much less grace. He settled into the seat and almost yelped when Sam reached around, grabbed his ass with both hands and urged him forward.
“You need to be closer.” She told him, “And wrap your arms around me.” He pulled her hands from him carefully and then inched forward on the seat until he was sure she would be satisfied he was close enough. He was pretty sure he was too close, leather to denim, tight against her ass and him. He wrapped his arms around her as instructed, hands hovering over her waist until she took them and pressed them down onto her body.
“Okay?” She asked.
“Yeah fine.” He said to the back of her helmet, shifting a little against her.
“Lift your legs up and hold on.” She warned, and he quickly obeyed, moments before she kicked the stand away, turned the keys and they sped off in a whirl of noise.
*****
All Cam could really remember about his bike ride with Sam was his crotch pressed up against her ass, leather, the wind, and the noise the bike made as it skidded into a tree on a corner.
The screech had stung his ear drums and he’d almost let go of Sam so he could cover them up but as the bike careened out of control across the tarmac, she let go of one handle to hold his hand to her and he held on tight until they came to sudden crashing stop against a tree. Eyes shut tight and head buried into her back.
When he opened his eyes he was lying on his back, looking up at a dull grey sky and two paramedics. He sat up like a shot, looking around, pain searing through him, but not stopping him from trying to find Sam. He saw black tyre tracks burnt into the road, and her crushed bike, but no blonde hair, no leather clad ass.
“My friend?” He groaned, voice strained, falling back onto the stretcher.
“She’s okay, she’s just over there.” He tried to sit up again, but the pain in his back was unbearable and for a horrible moment he was in Antarctica again, cold and broken.
Terrified.
“Sam!” He called out, louder this time; her name followed by a cough. He didn’t think she could’ve heard , but then a paramedic moved him and he was looking up at a dull sky and a cut up face.
“Cam,” she smiled, one of the weak forced ones he’d seen so often,
“You okay?”
“No, you?”
“I’m okay.” She had dozens of little nicks on her face, a blanket around her shoulders. He couldn’t quite see any other injuries on her, but he couldn’t see much at all, he was dizzy. He smiled at her. At least, he hoped he was smiling.
“Good,” he closed his eyes for a moment and felt himself lifted up and placed into an ambulance. He had to open his eyes again, even as he was asked, because all he could think about was Antarctica and that his legs were cold. Really cold. From her seat in the ambulance beside him Sam pulled the blanket from her shoulders, shook it out and laid it over him.
“You were shivering.” She said in a quiet voice, eyes not quite meeting his.
“Thanks Sam.”
*****
He woke up in the hospital, disorientated and confused. He had been dreaming about the ride on Sam’s bike, arms tight around her body, moving them a little higher to rest under her breasts. Leaning into the corners with her as she took them with ease, with grace. It was beautiful and exhilarating to watch the trees become a blur either side of him, to feel the speed, exposed as he was, but feeling completely safe with Sam.
Then he woke with a terrible sense of déjà vu and panic hit him, the hospital room was so like the one he’d spent most of his recovery time in, and for a moment he thought maybe the past six months had been a dream, and that he couldn’t walk, couldn’t move, or wiggle his toes.
Then he managed to kick out at the covers, it hurt to do, but he managed it. Relieved, he flopped back into the softness of the bed.
“Cam?”
Sam was looking around the door, just her head visible through the gap, smiling at him.
“Hey Sam, you’re okay.”
“Yup.” She meandered into the room, an awkward silence stretching between them.
“How you feeling?”
“Rough.” He struggled to sit up and Sam moved fast to help him, wrapping her arm around him and holding him tight as she pulled him up.
“Better?”
“Thanks.”
“I’m really sorry Cam, I don’t know what happened.” She blurted the words out into another awkward silence.
“Hey, it’s fine, you’re okay, I’m okay,”
“The doctor said you’ll be fine,” she interrupted.
“Then it’s fine.” She laughed at that,
“Though you look like hell.”
“My helmet smashed.” She said, “And my bike is done for.”
“Sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything Cam.” She told him.
“I know, I just don’t want you to beat yourself up over it.” He said, “I know you will.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“No.”
He shook his head and smiled.
*****
She gave him time to answer the door before knocking a second time. When he’d left the hospital he’d needed a crutch to help him walk, his left leg had gotten crushed between the bike and the tree. She had taken the corner relatively slowly, and the damage to them both was minimal.
Her bike had come off the worst.
When he opened the door he was dressed in grey sweats and an AF t-shirt, leaning heavily on the crutch, looking pale and a lot more vulnerable that she would’ve expected.
“Sam, hey.” He smiled.
“You discharged yourself.”
“I’ve spent enough time in hospital for a while.” He said, leading her inside. “Think all the white is making me photosensitive.” She didn’t answer, following him through to his lounge silently, frowning.
“You don’t look so good Cam.”
“Not been sleeping,” he said, “keep leaning on my leg,” he added after, shrugging it off. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll get it.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“You look better.” He cupped her face, running a thumb over a cut on her cheek.
“I’m okay.” She said, shaking his hand away.
“What’s up Sam?”
“What’s up Cam?”
“Nothing.” She replied.
“Same here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t believe you either.”
They stood opposite each other in his kitchen, faces annoyed, staring each other down, waiting for the other to confess to something, anything, whatever was bugging the other about the crash. It had to be the crash, just a few days ago it had all been smiles and innuendo about taking him for a ride.
They broke at the same time.
“I feel guilty.”
“I’m having nightmares.”
They both laughed a little.
“I knew you’d beat yourself up over this,” Cam said, moving to sit on one of his kitchen stools, holding the crutch loosely in one hand.
“I took the corner badly.”
“It was an accident.” She grabbed his crutch away from him.
“I hurt you Cam.” She cried, “and you're having nightmares about it"
“Antarctica.” He said, his voice low, head dipped, “Months of physical therapy. Crushed legs.”
“Cam,” his name was a whisper and she stepped towards him, leaning the crutch against the counter behind him, so both hands were free and she could wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly for a moment until the silence became awkward again.
“I’m really sorry.” She whispered into his hair.
“It was an accident.” He stressed, she pulled away from him, taking a step back, “Sam you’re driving me crazy with this.”
“I gave you nightmares.”
“So; I'm a big boy, I can cope.” He said,
“Why is this bugging you so much?”
“I’ve never crashed my bike before with someone else on it.” She confessed, turning away from him. He reached out and pulled her back to stand close to him again.
“Sam” He smiled. “I'll be back on duty in a couple of weeks and right up until we hit the tree it was a really great ride.”
She smiled.
“I still feel guilty.” She said, making a pathetic attempt to pull away from him.
“Okay, so you work off your guilt.”
“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow.
“You have a dirty mind Sam.” He said. “Mostly I was hoping you could make me dinner and help out while I’m on this crutch.”
“I could do that.”
“I have no food though.”
“I have to do grocery shopping as well?”
“Please.” He made that false, heartbroken face and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine.”
“Feel better now?”
“Not really.” She said, pulling away from him finally.
“Well, you could wear some leather pants for me.”
She put her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow, unsure if she was amused or annoyed. Or aroused.
*****
After shopping and dinner he could see she still felt guilty about crashing the bike and injuring his leg. She wasn’t smiling like normal, her face tense, eyes dull and dark; he really didn’t like Sam when she was depressed. She wouldn’t listen though, and he hadn’t mentioned the crash, or reminded her that it had been an accident since they’d left for the grocery store.
Now; at his dinner table, she was quiet, and depressed (he knew the look), and he hated it. It made him depressed; and he really hated that.
“Sam,” he started, “you’re killing me here.”
“Huh?”
“With that look, it’s depressing.”
“Sorry.”
“It was an accident.” He said, “you didn’t do anything wrong, and I don’t blame you for anything.”
“I know, it’s just hard to accept.”
“Well, accept it.” He said, “Please.” He pleaded; she sighed.
“I’m trying.” He got up from his chair with the use of the crutch and she did the same, starting to clear the table, but he stopped her and pulled her away, holding onto both her arms, and leaning on her heavily.
“Can you try harder?” He asked.
“Are you serious?”
“Not really.” He smiled, but she didn’t smile back,
“What would make you feel better?”
“I really don’t know.” She admitted, “I’m torturing myself.”
“Well stop it.”
“I can’t!” She cried.
“I know what will make you feel better.” He said, smiling slightly, a little curve of his lips as he moved into her personal space, into the curve of her body, and wrapped his arms around her to hug her tight to him, almost squeezing her. She didn’t fight the strength of it, and wrapped her arms around him to hold him to her. For a long moment they stood like that, and when she needed to breathe, she wriggled and he let go, pulling his head back; but not his body.
“Feel better?” He asked with a smile.
“A little.” She said with a grin.
She craned her neck forward and kissed him on the lips, a gentle brush of her lips over his, waiting to see if he would respond, return the kiss before she pushed him further, harder. Finally he did, after making her worry a little that all their jokes had been just that; but he couldn’t not kiss her back, not when her lips felt even softer than they looked.
They broke apart and he smiled at her, looking at her face, and the healing cuts and genuine smile that he hadn’t seen for a while.
*****
He was pretty sure that this was making her feel better, if the look of bliss on her face was anything to go by. It was certainly making him feel better. She moved slow, her body tight and tense as he thrust up into her, hands on her hips, his crutch forgotten long ago in his hallway.
She was leant forward over him, resting her palms flat on his chest, giving her something more to push against, so she could move harder against him. He was aroused far too easily by Sam Carter, leather pants, and shy smiles. Her kisses. All the little things about her, and all the little things she did that worked him up, built him towards something that threatened to destroy him.
He hoped.
She was tight, hot, her body beautiful above his, shining with the effort she put into this, like everything else, every little part of her was focused on fucking him senseless and he was never more grateful for it than right now. The friction of his erection moving in and out of her body was lessening as she became wetter, got closer to the edge, but the force of it was increasing, he couldn’t help but move harder and faster because he was closer then she was, he knew that. He just couldn’t get his brain cells together to do anything about it.
All he could really do was hold on, thrust up, and watch her breasts through scrunched up eyes as they moved with the rhythm of his thrusts. And watch her smile. She smiled during sex he noted, the nicks on her face did nothing to remove the beauty of a twisted and aroused smile. She had been silent for the most part too, as if the noise would give too much of herself away to him, biting her lip as he had sucked on her nipple, almost drawing blood when he had entered her body, slow and careful, so he could enjoy every millimetre.
She was moaning now though, crying out through that twisted mile, an ‘uh’ noise escaping on every upward thrust into her body and he wanted to see how loud he could make her cry, but he didn’t think he had time to experiment. His body was screaming at him. Screaming for completion, screaming with tension, screaming ‘ohfuckinggodthiswomanisamazing’.
He smoothed a hand over her hip and down to her clit, seeking it out from within the swollen flesh and wetness, pressing down and causing Sam to falter in her rhythm, and choke something out. A word, possibly his name, but when he pressed down again, she didn’t repeat it, biting her lip instead, and the spasm of her muscles around him forced his eyes to close as he continued to move, body and fingers until she cried out again, and this time he understood. She was trying to stop herself from crying out his name. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know her well enough for the why, but when she cried out again, louder, he decided that it didn’t matter.
He pinched her clit between his fingers, timing it with a particularly hard thrust and a grunt, using what little energy he had left to make her come, make her break above him. His success was its own reward, her body tensing tight around him one last time, a strangled noise escaping her, loud and long as she came, nails digging into his chest, pulling him along with her. Everything went fuzzy, his body collapsing, spasms of pleasure running through him and into her, and they shook together for endless moments, before she collapsed too; falling to the bed beside him, whimpering.
Sam Carter whimpered.
Something about that wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite force his head into a place it could find out why. When he opened his eyes it was still dark, his brain still fuzzy, stopping him from realising why, the buzz and hum of his orgasm still strong. He took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself down, something about it threatened to make him panic, he felt like something wasn’t right, this wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure why.
Except that it was, really really good, and Sam was curling up next to him, breathing hard, the occasional tiny whimper vibrating against his arm.
Five, and then ten minutes passed like that, in silent shaking, and harsh heavy breathing.
“Cam?” She whispered, an unsure tone he’d never heard from her before. “You alright?”
“Are you?”
“I think so.”
“Me too.”
They were silent again for a minute, their breathing slowing finally now that they had spoken; now that they knew the other was alive and whole.
“What just happened?” He asked.
“That was really, really good.”
“That was amazing Sam” She looked up at him from where she had crawled into the curve of his body, grinning. She pulled the covers up from where they had been kicked aside, down at the bottom of the bed, and covered them both up, resting her head on his chest this time.
“We are very good together.” She said, speaking into his chest.
“Good? You don’t strike me as the whimpering type.”
“That was new” She admitted. He shifted and slipped an arm beneath her to pull her closer to him, and kissed her on the head.
“That was cute.”
“Don’t Cam.” He grinned but she didn’t see.
“Anyway, do you feel better now?” He asked.
“A lot better.”
“But?”
“But I’m not taking you on the bike again.”
“I don’t care. Just promise me you’ll wear the leather pants again.”
She hit him with her free hand, a light tap on his chest, and laughed. He relaxed, closing his eyes, her body tight against his once more. He knew she’d take him on her bike again, maybe in another six months, hopefully he’d know her a lot better by then.
Author: rolleson
Fandom: SG-1
Rating: ADULT
Character/Pairing: Sam/Cam
Spoilers: None really.
Warnings: Sex.
Summery: Written for lizardbeth_j.
Prompt: Three Things You Want To See: lockpicking or motorcycles, a bit of
h/c, hopefully smut
Three Things You Do NOT Want To See: references to Jack/Sam
Notes: Thanks to mayogate for the beta. 3150 words.
“This is my motorbike. One of them.” Sam said, stretching her arms out.
“I can see that.” Cam answered, arms folded, eyebrow raised. Stood outside the front of her house he’d gotten cold waiting for her to change into leathers and bring a bike around from the back. It was worth the wait, but he could do without the shrinkage down below when he was about to be sat behind her, pressed up against her.
“You get on, like this.” She swung a leg up high and over the bike, settling on the seat with a grin.
“Cute,” he said, “do you do the splits as well?”
“I haven’t tried for a while,” she told him, “maybe later.”
“You were in the gymnastics teams weren’t you?”
“No, field hockey. I preferred the little skirts.”
“Ah.” He didn’t say anything for a moment.
“You’re thinking about me in a hockey skirt aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He said laughing.
“Just get on the bike Cam.” She said, throwing a helmet at him and hitting him square in the stomach.
“Good shot,” he coughed out, doubling over for a moment, holding the helmet in his arms.
“I was top scorer in the academy.” She said, pulling on her own helmet over her blonde hair. “Still was last time I checked.”
He didn’t answer and climbed on the bike behind her, with much less grace. He settled into the seat and almost yelped when Sam reached around, grabbed his ass with both hands and urged him forward.
“You need to be closer.” She told him, “And wrap your arms around me.” He pulled her hands from him carefully and then inched forward on the seat until he was sure she would be satisfied he was close enough. He was pretty sure he was too close, leather to denim, tight against her ass and him. He wrapped his arms around her as instructed, hands hovering over her waist until she took them and pressed them down onto her body.
“Okay?” She asked.
“Yeah fine.” He said to the back of her helmet, shifting a little against her.
“Lift your legs up and hold on.” She warned, and he quickly obeyed, moments before she kicked the stand away, turned the keys and they sped off in a whirl of noise.
*****
All Cam could really remember about his bike ride with Sam was his crotch pressed up against her ass, leather, the wind, and the noise the bike made as it skidded into a tree on a corner.
The screech had stung his ear drums and he’d almost let go of Sam so he could cover them up but as the bike careened out of control across the tarmac, she let go of one handle to hold his hand to her and he held on tight until they came to sudden crashing stop against a tree. Eyes shut tight and head buried into her back.
When he opened his eyes he was lying on his back, looking up at a dull grey sky and two paramedics. He sat up like a shot, looking around, pain searing through him, but not stopping him from trying to find Sam. He saw black tyre tracks burnt into the road, and her crushed bike, but no blonde hair, no leather clad ass.
“My friend?” He groaned, voice strained, falling back onto the stretcher.
“She’s okay, she’s just over there.” He tried to sit up again, but the pain in his back was unbearable and for a horrible moment he was in Antarctica again, cold and broken.
Terrified.
“Sam!” He called out, louder this time; her name followed by a cough. He didn’t think she could’ve heard , but then a paramedic moved him and he was looking up at a dull sky and a cut up face.
“Cam,” she smiled, one of the weak forced ones he’d seen so often,
“You okay?”
“No, you?”
“I’m okay.” She had dozens of little nicks on her face, a blanket around her shoulders. He couldn’t quite see any other injuries on her, but he couldn’t see much at all, he was dizzy. He smiled at her. At least, he hoped he was smiling.
“Good,” he closed his eyes for a moment and felt himself lifted up and placed into an ambulance. He had to open his eyes again, even as he was asked, because all he could think about was Antarctica and that his legs were cold. Really cold. From her seat in the ambulance beside him Sam pulled the blanket from her shoulders, shook it out and laid it over him.
“You were shivering.” She said in a quiet voice, eyes not quite meeting his.
“Thanks Sam.”
*****
He woke up in the hospital, disorientated and confused. He had been dreaming about the ride on Sam’s bike, arms tight around her body, moving them a little higher to rest under her breasts. Leaning into the corners with her as she took them with ease, with grace. It was beautiful and exhilarating to watch the trees become a blur either side of him, to feel the speed, exposed as he was, but feeling completely safe with Sam.
Then he woke with a terrible sense of déjà vu and panic hit him, the hospital room was so like the one he’d spent most of his recovery time in, and for a moment he thought maybe the past six months had been a dream, and that he couldn’t walk, couldn’t move, or wiggle his toes.
Then he managed to kick out at the covers, it hurt to do, but he managed it. Relieved, he flopped back into the softness of the bed.
“Cam?”
Sam was looking around the door, just her head visible through the gap, smiling at him.
“Hey Sam, you’re okay.”
“Yup.” She meandered into the room, an awkward silence stretching between them.
“How you feeling?”
“Rough.” He struggled to sit up and Sam moved fast to help him, wrapping her arm around him and holding him tight as she pulled him up.
“Better?”
“Thanks.”
“I’m really sorry Cam, I don’t know what happened.” She blurted the words out into another awkward silence.
“Hey, it’s fine, you’re okay, I’m okay,”
“The doctor said you’ll be fine,” she interrupted.
“Then it’s fine.” She laughed at that,
“Though you look like hell.”
“My helmet smashed.” She said, “And my bike is done for.”
“Sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything Cam.” She told him.
“I know, I just don’t want you to beat yourself up over it.” He said, “I know you will.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“No.”
He shook his head and smiled.
*****
She gave him time to answer the door before knocking a second time. When he’d left the hospital he’d needed a crutch to help him walk, his left leg had gotten crushed between the bike and the tree. She had taken the corner relatively slowly, and the damage to them both was minimal.
Her bike had come off the worst.
When he opened the door he was dressed in grey sweats and an AF t-shirt, leaning heavily on the crutch, looking pale and a lot more vulnerable that she would’ve expected.
“Sam, hey.” He smiled.
“You discharged yourself.”
“I’ve spent enough time in hospital for a while.” He said, leading her inside. “Think all the white is making me photosensitive.” She didn’t answer, following him through to his lounge silently, frowning.
“You don’t look so good Cam.”
“Not been sleeping,” he said, “keep leaning on my leg,” he added after, shrugging it off. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll get it.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“You look better.” He cupped her face, running a thumb over a cut on her cheek.
“I’m okay.” She said, shaking his hand away.
“What’s up Sam?”
“What’s up Cam?”
“Nothing.” She replied.
“Same here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t believe you either.”
They stood opposite each other in his kitchen, faces annoyed, staring each other down, waiting for the other to confess to something, anything, whatever was bugging the other about the crash. It had to be the crash, just a few days ago it had all been smiles and innuendo about taking him for a ride.
They broke at the same time.
“I feel guilty.”
“I’m having nightmares.”
They both laughed a little.
“I knew you’d beat yourself up over this,” Cam said, moving to sit on one of his kitchen stools, holding the crutch loosely in one hand.
“I took the corner badly.”
“It was an accident.” She grabbed his crutch away from him.
“I hurt you Cam.” She cried, “and you're having nightmares about it"
“Antarctica.” He said, his voice low, head dipped, “Months of physical therapy. Crushed legs.”
“Cam,” his name was a whisper and she stepped towards him, leaning the crutch against the counter behind him, so both hands were free and she could wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly for a moment until the silence became awkward again.
“I’m really sorry.” She whispered into his hair.
“It was an accident.” He stressed, she pulled away from him, taking a step back, “Sam you’re driving me crazy with this.”
“I gave you nightmares.”
“So; I'm a big boy, I can cope.” He said,
“Why is this bugging you so much?”
“I’ve never crashed my bike before with someone else on it.” She confessed, turning away from him. He reached out and pulled her back to stand close to him again.
“Sam” He smiled. “I'll be back on duty in a couple of weeks and right up until we hit the tree it was a really great ride.”
She smiled.
“I still feel guilty.” She said, making a pathetic attempt to pull away from him.
“Okay, so you work off your guilt.”
“Excuse me?” She raised an eyebrow.
“You have a dirty mind Sam.” He said. “Mostly I was hoping you could make me dinner and help out while I’m on this crutch.”
“I could do that.”
“I have no food though.”
“I have to do grocery shopping as well?”
“Please.” He made that false, heartbroken face and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine.”
“Feel better now?”
“Not really.” She said, pulling away from him finally.
“Well, you could wear some leather pants for me.”
She put her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow, unsure if she was amused or annoyed. Or aroused.
*****
After shopping and dinner he could see she still felt guilty about crashing the bike and injuring his leg. She wasn’t smiling like normal, her face tense, eyes dull and dark; he really didn’t like Sam when she was depressed. She wouldn’t listen though, and he hadn’t mentioned the crash, or reminded her that it had been an accident since they’d left for the grocery store.
Now; at his dinner table, she was quiet, and depressed (he knew the look), and he hated it. It made him depressed; and he really hated that.
“Sam,” he started, “you’re killing me here.”
“Huh?”
“With that look, it’s depressing.”
“Sorry.”
“It was an accident.” He said, “you didn’t do anything wrong, and I don’t blame you for anything.”
“I know, it’s just hard to accept.”
“Well, accept it.” He said, “Please.” He pleaded; she sighed.
“I’m trying.” He got up from his chair with the use of the crutch and she did the same, starting to clear the table, but he stopped her and pulled her away, holding onto both her arms, and leaning on her heavily.
“Can you try harder?” He asked.
“Are you serious?”
“Not really.” He smiled, but she didn’t smile back,
“What would make you feel better?”
“I really don’t know.” She admitted, “I’m torturing myself.”
“Well stop it.”
“I can’t!” She cried.
“I know what will make you feel better.” He said, smiling slightly, a little curve of his lips as he moved into her personal space, into the curve of her body, and wrapped his arms around her to hug her tight to him, almost squeezing her. She didn’t fight the strength of it, and wrapped her arms around him to hold him to her. For a long moment they stood like that, and when she needed to breathe, she wriggled and he let go, pulling his head back; but not his body.
“Feel better?” He asked with a smile.
“A little.” She said with a grin.
She craned her neck forward and kissed him on the lips, a gentle brush of her lips over his, waiting to see if he would respond, return the kiss before she pushed him further, harder. Finally he did, after making her worry a little that all their jokes had been just that; but he couldn’t not kiss her back, not when her lips felt even softer than they looked.
They broke apart and he smiled at her, looking at her face, and the healing cuts and genuine smile that he hadn’t seen for a while.
*****
He was pretty sure that this was making her feel better, if the look of bliss on her face was anything to go by. It was certainly making him feel better. She moved slow, her body tight and tense as he thrust up into her, hands on her hips, his crutch forgotten long ago in his hallway.
She was leant forward over him, resting her palms flat on his chest, giving her something more to push against, so she could move harder against him. He was aroused far too easily by Sam Carter, leather pants, and shy smiles. Her kisses. All the little things about her, and all the little things she did that worked him up, built him towards something that threatened to destroy him.
He hoped.
She was tight, hot, her body beautiful above his, shining with the effort she put into this, like everything else, every little part of her was focused on fucking him senseless and he was never more grateful for it than right now. The friction of his erection moving in and out of her body was lessening as she became wetter, got closer to the edge, but the force of it was increasing, he couldn’t help but move harder and faster because he was closer then she was, he knew that. He just couldn’t get his brain cells together to do anything about it.
All he could really do was hold on, thrust up, and watch her breasts through scrunched up eyes as they moved with the rhythm of his thrusts. And watch her smile. She smiled during sex he noted, the nicks on her face did nothing to remove the beauty of a twisted and aroused smile. She had been silent for the most part too, as if the noise would give too much of herself away to him, biting her lip as he had sucked on her nipple, almost drawing blood when he had entered her body, slow and careful, so he could enjoy every millimetre.
She was moaning now though, crying out through that twisted mile, an ‘uh’ noise escaping on every upward thrust into her body and he wanted to see how loud he could make her cry, but he didn’t think he had time to experiment. His body was screaming at him. Screaming for completion, screaming with tension, screaming ‘ohfuckinggodthiswomanisamazing’.
He smoothed a hand over her hip and down to her clit, seeking it out from within the swollen flesh and wetness, pressing down and causing Sam to falter in her rhythm, and choke something out. A word, possibly his name, but when he pressed down again, she didn’t repeat it, biting her lip instead, and the spasm of her muscles around him forced his eyes to close as he continued to move, body and fingers until she cried out again, and this time he understood. She was trying to stop herself from crying out his name. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know her well enough for the why, but when she cried out again, louder, he decided that it didn’t matter.
He pinched her clit between his fingers, timing it with a particularly hard thrust and a grunt, using what little energy he had left to make her come, make her break above him. His success was its own reward, her body tensing tight around him one last time, a strangled noise escaping her, loud and long as she came, nails digging into his chest, pulling him along with her. Everything went fuzzy, his body collapsing, spasms of pleasure running through him and into her, and they shook together for endless moments, before she collapsed too; falling to the bed beside him, whimpering.
Sam Carter whimpered.
Something about that wasn’t right, but he couldn’t quite force his head into a place it could find out why. When he opened his eyes it was still dark, his brain still fuzzy, stopping him from realising why, the buzz and hum of his orgasm still strong. He took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself down, something about it threatened to make him panic, he felt like something wasn’t right, this wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure why.
Except that it was, really really good, and Sam was curling up next to him, breathing hard, the occasional tiny whimper vibrating against his arm.
Five, and then ten minutes passed like that, in silent shaking, and harsh heavy breathing.
“Cam?” She whispered, an unsure tone he’d never heard from her before. “You alright?”
“Are you?”
“I think so.”
“Me too.”
They were silent again for a minute, their breathing slowing finally now that they had spoken; now that they knew the other was alive and whole.
“What just happened?” He asked.
“That was really, really good.”
“That was amazing Sam” She looked up at him from where she had crawled into the curve of his body, grinning. She pulled the covers up from where they had been kicked aside, down at the bottom of the bed, and covered them both up, resting her head on his chest this time.
“We are very good together.” She said, speaking into his chest.
“Good? You don’t strike me as the whimpering type.”
“That was new” She admitted. He shifted and slipped an arm beneath her to pull her closer to him, and kissed her on the head.
“That was cute.”
“Don’t Cam.” He grinned but she didn’t see.
“Anyway, do you feel better now?” He asked.
“A lot better.”
“But?”
“But I’m not taking you on the bike again.”
“I don’t care. Just promise me you’ll wear the leather pants again.”
She hit him with her free hand, a light tap on his chest, and laughed. He relaxed, closing his eyes, her body tight against his once more. He knew she’d take him on her bike again, maybe in another six months, hopefully he’d know her a lot better by then.