Desk (Sam/Cam SG-1 PWP oneshot)
Title: Desk
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Pairings: Sam/Cam
Genre: PWP
Summary: A moment alone, before a mission
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
AN: Again, I don't know. At all. And this...is just a bonus drabble. There is no plot.
She covered her mouth with a hand as he shoved her over a desk, yanking the dull blue uniform down over her hips and shoving into her without preamble. He fought down a strangled cry, and her free hand slapped down on the metal desk with the effort of holding in her cry. They only had a few minutes. Just a few extra minutes before SG-1 would find them and they would go out on the mission. This was how she loved it, though, and he was never one to argue. Rushed couplings in stolen offices got her worked up hours before the mission was even scheduled. He knew that because she would often drag him into a nondescript room and have him up against a wall long before missions ever rolled about.
Speaking of missions, he dug his fingers into the metal finish of the desk, pressing his forehead into her shoulderblade as he sought for a rhythm that would quickly bring them to where they needed to be before SG-1 came around to this specific office. The wheels squeaked with disuse and protest, and the sound of skin slapping against skin seemed so loud it could have been heard in the hallway outside--despite the closed door. The desk slammed into the nearby wall, and Sam's purchase skidded a bit more with every viscous thrust.
None of it mattered to the tight heat that welcomed his every move, and the keening cries that escaped her perfect little lips. He was fighting for breath, for composure. Hers was long gone, as she scrambled for his head, and pulled him forward for a desperate, messy kiss. God, but he loved to see her so ruined, so out of control. It could have gotten him off just thinking about it. It had before.
The nails of one hand dug into her skin briefly, before he wrapped his arm around her waist and roughly twisted her slick, pulsing nub. She cried his name into his kiss and came around him with a sudden violence that shocked even him. The rhythmic tightening and shuddering around him drove him almost immediately over the edge after her, stealing all sense of rhythm and awareness away from him, until he collapsed on top of her, still quivering from release. He pushed his weight off of her, fixing their uniforms a moment later.
She smiled up at him, as she twisted around under him, and kissed his cheek softly.
Before she could speak, however, the voices of Jackson and Vala's bickering filtered into the room from the hall, and they straightened, sharing one brief, private smile, before Vala bounded in on them, and dragged them away from Sam's latest science project to the gate room.
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Pairings: Sam/Cam
Genre: PWP
Summary: A moment alone, before a mission
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
AN: Again, I don't know. At all. And this...is just a bonus drabble. There is no plot.
She covered her mouth with a hand as he shoved her over a desk, yanking the dull blue uniform down over her hips and shoving into her without preamble. He fought down a strangled cry, and her free hand slapped down on the metal desk with the effort of holding in her cry. They only had a few minutes. Just a few extra minutes before SG-1 would find them and they would go out on the mission. This was how she loved it, though, and he was never one to argue. Rushed couplings in stolen offices got her worked up hours before the mission was even scheduled. He knew that because she would often drag him into a nondescript room and have him up against a wall long before missions ever rolled about.
Speaking of missions, he dug his fingers into the metal finish of the desk, pressing his forehead into her shoulderblade as he sought for a rhythm that would quickly bring them to where they needed to be before SG-1 came around to this specific office. The wheels squeaked with disuse and protest, and the sound of skin slapping against skin seemed so loud it could have been heard in the hallway outside--despite the closed door. The desk slammed into the nearby wall, and Sam's purchase skidded a bit more with every viscous thrust.
None of it mattered to the tight heat that welcomed his every move, and the keening cries that escaped her perfect little lips. He was fighting for breath, for composure. Hers was long gone, as she scrambled for his head, and pulled him forward for a desperate, messy kiss. God, but he loved to see her so ruined, so out of control. It could have gotten him off just thinking about it. It had before.
The nails of one hand dug into her skin briefly, before he wrapped his arm around her waist and roughly twisted her slick, pulsing nub. She cried his name into his kiss and came around him with a sudden violence that shocked even him. The rhythmic tightening and shuddering around him drove him almost immediately over the edge after her, stealing all sense of rhythm and awareness away from him, until he collapsed on top of her, still quivering from release. He pushed his weight off of her, fixing their uniforms a moment later.
She smiled up at him, as she twisted around under him, and kissed his cheek softly.
Before she could speak, however, the voices of Jackson and Vala's bickering filtered into the room from the hall, and they straightened, sharing one brief, private smile, before Vala bounded in on them, and dragged them away from Sam's latest science project to the gate room.