Ficlet: "If You Want to Live" (TSCC, Ellison/Sarah)
I have committed TSCC fic and my first porn in a year and a half, all in one blow! Here at the Porn Battle, or below (for archiving purposes).
Title: If You Want to Live
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Pairing: James Ellison/Sarah Connor
Rating: hard R
Prompt: Ellison/Sarah, savior
Notes: unbetaed commentfic :)
"Get the fuck in the car," she yells, pushing him into the door of an SUV while she glances over her shoulder at Catherine gaining on them at inhuman speeds. The second time Sarah Connor has saved him. He'd say he owes her again, but really, she's cost him far more than she can ever pay back.
She loses Catherine, then drives around for two hours just to be sure, out into the desert and then doubling back another way to home. She doesn't speak to him and he doesn't answer. Images race through his mind. Catherine who…isn't. John Henry who will never learn ethics, who will destroy the human race. Sarah Connor. Always Sarah.
His head starts to clear when she ushers him into the living room of what must be her house and starts telling John and the girl machine about Catherine. A T-1000, she calls her, and James catches the terrified expression that flashes across John's face for half a moment. She sends them out to keep watch, and although he knows what the girl is, he doesn't feel much safer. He knows in that moment he will never have a home again.
"Fuck," Sarah murmurs, then turns on him. "What the hell were you thinking, Ellison? What the fucking hell? You know what's coming. You know and you're working for them." She's yelling now, moving in toward him. He takes one step back, then another, then stops, grips her shoulders as she comes into his space, keeping her close but at arm's length.
"How was I supposed to know?" he shouts back. "How was she any less trustworthy than you are? At least she-"
"It," Sarah interrupts sharply. "It's a machine. You're helping it destroy the world."
"I was trying to stop it!" His fingers are tight on her arms, and she's close enough she has to look up at him. But she's still in charge here.
"I'm the one who stops it!" Her voice is filled with rage and anguish, and she wrenches out of his grip. Instinctively, he catches her wrist and pulls her back.
"Then let me help you," he says softly, relaxing his grip on her wrist.
She inhales sharply, starts to shake her head.
"Sarah," he murmurs. She goes still, then relaxes toward him as her resistance fades. Her hair smells like smoke and gunpowder, like she's always smelled in his dreams.
He whispers her name again as she turns her face up to his, and suddenly she's kissing him. He doesn't know why. For all that he's been circling around her for years, he assumed she's never given him a second thought, but now her hands circle around his shoulders and clutch at the back of his neck. He pulls her flush against him, kisses her roughly, groans as she slides a leg between his.
"Bedroom," she breathes, her lips nipping at the shell of his ear. She takes his hand and leads him upstairs.
Sarah is silent as she closes the door behind them, starts to unbutton his shirt. James wants to panic, wants to ask her why, wants to say he hasn't done this in a long time, not since Lila, no one but Lila in a very long time, except Sarah now, finally, smelling of gunpowder and unzipping his fly and pushing him toward the bed.
Her body under his hands is bone and muscle, sharp angles and puckered scars whose origins he will never know. He stumbles back onto the bed, and she's on him and around him, and as she rocks against him, her hands on him like fire, he thinks this moment was inevitable. Part of a future that is always known, yet always malleable.
He comes quickly, too much exhaustion and adrenaline to hold on, and his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips as he releases against her. You've ruined my life, he thinks, blood rushing in his ears and her face above his, whether his eyes are open or closed. Always Sarah.
He pulls out of her and flips her onto her back, fucking her with two fingers and rubbing his thumb roughly against her clit. He tastes the salt of her skin and watches her come hard, mouth open in a silent cry, as her clutching fingernails draw blood on his shoulders. He knows he will follow this woman to the end of the world.
Title: If You Want to Live
Fandom: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Pairing: James Ellison/Sarah Connor
Rating: hard R
Prompt: Ellison/Sarah, savior
Notes: unbetaed commentfic :)
"Get the fuck in the car," she yells, pushing him into the door of an SUV while she glances over her shoulder at Catherine gaining on them at inhuman speeds. The second time Sarah Connor has saved him. He'd say he owes her again, but really, she's cost him far more than she can ever pay back.
She loses Catherine, then drives around for two hours just to be sure, out into the desert and then doubling back another way to home. She doesn't speak to him and he doesn't answer. Images race through his mind. Catherine who…isn't. John Henry who will never learn ethics, who will destroy the human race. Sarah Connor. Always Sarah.
His head starts to clear when she ushers him into the living room of what must be her house and starts telling John and the girl machine about Catherine. A T-1000, she calls her, and James catches the terrified expression that flashes across John's face for half a moment. She sends them out to keep watch, and although he knows what the girl is, he doesn't feel much safer. He knows in that moment he will never have a home again.
"Fuck," Sarah murmurs, then turns on him. "What the hell were you thinking, Ellison? What the fucking hell? You know what's coming. You know and you're working for them." She's yelling now, moving in toward him. He takes one step back, then another, then stops, grips her shoulders as she comes into his space, keeping her close but at arm's length.
"How was I supposed to know?" he shouts back. "How was she any less trustworthy than you are? At least she-"
"It," Sarah interrupts sharply. "It's a machine. You're helping it destroy the world."
"I was trying to stop it!" His fingers are tight on her arms, and she's close enough she has to look up at him. But she's still in charge here.
"I'm the one who stops it!" Her voice is filled with rage and anguish, and she wrenches out of his grip. Instinctively, he catches her wrist and pulls her back.
"Then let me help you," he says softly, relaxing his grip on her wrist.
She inhales sharply, starts to shake her head.
"Sarah," he murmurs. She goes still, then relaxes toward him as her resistance fades. Her hair smells like smoke and gunpowder, like she's always smelled in his dreams.
He whispers her name again as she turns her face up to his, and suddenly she's kissing him. He doesn't know why. For all that he's been circling around her for years, he assumed she's never given him a second thought, but now her hands circle around his shoulders and clutch at the back of his neck. He pulls her flush against him, kisses her roughly, groans as she slides a leg between his.
"Bedroom," she breathes, her lips nipping at the shell of his ear. She takes his hand and leads him upstairs.
Sarah is silent as she closes the door behind them, starts to unbutton his shirt. James wants to panic, wants to ask her why, wants to say he hasn't done this in a long time, not since Lila, no one but Lila in a very long time, except Sarah now, finally, smelling of gunpowder and unzipping his fly and pushing him toward the bed.
Her body under his hands is bone and muscle, sharp angles and puckered scars whose origins he will never know. He stumbles back onto the bed, and she's on him and around him, and as she rocks against him, her hands on him like fire, he thinks this moment was inevitable. Part of a future that is always known, yet always malleable.
He comes quickly, too much exhaustion and adrenaline to hold on, and his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips as he releases against her. You've ruined my life, he thinks, blood rushing in his ears and her face above his, whether his eyes are open or closed. Always Sarah.
He pulls out of her and flips her onto her back, fucking her with two fingers and rubbing his thumb roughly against her clit. He tastes the salt of her skin and watches her come hard, mouth open in a silent cry, as her clutching fingernails draw blood on his shoulders. He knows he will follow this woman to the end of the world.