Fic | In The Shadows | Sam/Baal (SG1) [FRT]
Fandom: Stargate SG1
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [Writer's choice (50ficlets #10 Light & Dark)] and 5_prompts [8.5 Candle Pic]
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 525
Summary: Taking what he wants is second nature, being given it is something else.
Gold light flickers shifting shadows across the room. It catches in her hair, haloing her head and sheens over her sweat-dampened skin. Darkness gathers in her navel, between her legs. In the hollow of her back as she arches on a moan, the sheet twisted tight in her hands.
His name spills from her lips. Her body seeks his touch, trembles beneath it. Warms under his palm, moistens at the brush of his fingertips.
She is alabaster and gold, like a statue of the goddess she should be. But living, breathing, and desperate for his worship. His hands skim her flesh with reverence and a growing need to lose himself within her heated walls.
It is a hunger that obliterates every other desire, and his senses hang in the moment. His lips press against pale skin and she moans, mutters an oath, demands him now.
He is happy to oblige.
Her flesh yields to him, but there is no need to force her: she is more than willing. Taking what he wants is second nature, but being gifted it... he has no words to describe how that feels. So he presses in deeply, filling her with himself, and covers her mouth with his own.
She grips him now, nails digging into his shoulders. Pain sparks pleasure and he growls, plunges in deeper. Her cry shatters aganist the walls, breaking into a thousand pieces that fall around him like rain.
The play of light shifts as they breathe as one, hard and heavy, gasping as he takes her higher, higher. She says his name again and again, a soft chant of want interspersed with pleas for harder, faster, more and please, please, oh God I'm going to...
When the wave hits her, it swamps him as well and he spills in hot and with a roar that comes from his soul. Collapses on her, boneless and sated, yet still wanting more. There is not time enough to claim her as much as he wants, as he needs. He burns with it, and having her only adds more fuel to the fire.
He is not sure if this is love. He denies his humanity, but she finds it with an ease that startles him. Pulls it from his darkness and into the light, and it frightens him to see what he has become. What she makes of him.
He knows he is not as good as she says he is. Only here, in this room, lit by inconsistent candles, where he can hide in the shifting shadows, afraid that she will see him for what he is.
Afraid that she will expose his heart and shatter his pretences.
Because if she is a statue of alabaster and gold, then he is hollow bronze with feet of clay, built on lies and an act he has played for so long that he isn't sure he can drop it.
He no longer really knows who he is, only that being with her somehow makes everything right, makes sense, makes him something more than myth and a whisper of a nightmare.
Recreates him in her image, perfect yet fallible.
Human.
Characters: Baal, Sam Carter
Pairing: Sam/Baal
Written for: scifiland ILYLP [Writer's choice (50ficlets #10 Light & Dark)] and 5_prompts [8.5 Candle Pic]
Rating: FRT
Word Count: 525
Summary: Taking what he wants is second nature, being given it is something else.
Gold light flickers shifting shadows across the room. It catches in her hair, haloing her head and sheens over her sweat-dampened skin. Darkness gathers in her navel, between her legs. In the hollow of her back as she arches on a moan, the sheet twisted tight in her hands.
His name spills from her lips. Her body seeks his touch, trembles beneath it. Warms under his palm, moistens at the brush of his fingertips.
She is alabaster and gold, like a statue of the goddess she should be. But living, breathing, and desperate for his worship. His hands skim her flesh with reverence and a growing need to lose himself within her heated walls.
It is a hunger that obliterates every other desire, and his senses hang in the moment. His lips press against pale skin and she moans, mutters an oath, demands him now.
He is happy to oblige.
Her flesh yields to him, but there is no need to force her: she is more than willing. Taking what he wants is second nature, but being gifted it... he has no words to describe how that feels. So he presses in deeply, filling her with himself, and covers her mouth with his own.
She grips him now, nails digging into his shoulders. Pain sparks pleasure and he growls, plunges in deeper. Her cry shatters aganist the walls, breaking into a thousand pieces that fall around him like rain.
The play of light shifts as they breathe as one, hard and heavy, gasping as he takes her higher, higher. She says his name again and again, a soft chant of want interspersed with pleas for harder, faster, more and please, please, oh God I'm going to...
When the wave hits her, it swamps him as well and he spills in hot and with a roar that comes from his soul. Collapses on her, boneless and sated, yet still wanting more. There is not time enough to claim her as much as he wants, as he needs. He burns with it, and having her only adds more fuel to the fire.
He is not sure if this is love. He denies his humanity, but she finds it with an ease that startles him. Pulls it from his darkness and into the light, and it frightens him to see what he has become. What she makes of him.
He knows he is not as good as she says he is. Only here, in this room, lit by inconsistent candles, where he can hide in the shifting shadows, afraid that she will see him for what he is.
Afraid that she will expose his heart and shatter his pretences.
Because if she is a statue of alabaster and gold, then he is hollow bronze with feet of clay, built on lies and an act he has played for so long that he isn't sure he can drop it.
He no longer really knows who he is, only that being with her somehow makes everything right, makes sense, makes him something more than myth and a whisper of a nightmare.
Recreates him in her image, perfect yet fallible.
Human.