Fic: Reese
TITLE: Reese
AUTHOR: dramady and jeck7
RATING: NC 17
PAIRING: Sarah Connor/Derek Reese
WARNINGS: refers to "The Good Wound."
DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of fictional individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the fictional persons whose names are used without permission.
SUMMARY: Sarah remembers Kyle and Derek remembers a Sarah in Kyle's picture.
A/N: A coda to "The Good Wound."
****
"Reese!" Sarah awoke with a start, also waking the pain in her leg from the bullet wound. Almost immediately, she hissed, falling back. God.
It was almost too much. To deal with the pain and with the realization that Kyle had just been a dream, a hallucination. He was gone again. She fell back on the sofa, her arm over her eyes.
"Sarah?" Derek was bent over her. "Sarah." She was talking in her sleep again. She kept saying 'Reese' and always 'Reese,' and each time Derek heard it something twisted in his chest. "Kyle's not here." He said, his voice soft but sharp.
After a moment, Sarah moved her arm and blinked up at him, frowning still as she always did. "I know," she said, looking away. "I know." God, she missed him. She wished desperately that Derek didn't, under that shitty aftershave, smell like Kyle.
She looked like shit. Actually, like shit that got hit by a god damned truck. Derek leaned further, peering at her, concern, rarely seen, was on his face. He frowned, then spoke slowly. "I think about him, too." It was something he'd never normally admit. But there it was. Sarah could take it for what it was worth.
"Not in the same way I do," she told him, grim. She cut her gaze back to him and didn't look away. He didn't look much better, actually; drawn. Tight. And he hadn't been shot. She didn't want to talk about this. Not with Derek. "John's okay?"
"John's fine," he answered, eyes on her face, taking in how haggard she looked. Tired. Something in his chest made his arm move that he slid his fingers through her hair, brushing the sweaty strands off her face before he cupped Sarah's cheek, looking into her eyes.
"Not the same way you do but enough," he said, his gaze not leaving hers. "Enough."
It was as if her chest was twisted up tight, hurting more than if she was shot. She gasped at the sudden sharp pain and she felt her eyes prickle, though they were dry like a desert. She heard herself again, say, "Reese," not pulling away from his hand.
Hearing that made Derek pull it back, though, and he straightened up, narrowed eyes at Sarah. "I'm not him. I'm not Kyle," he said a little too sharply. "He's dead, Sarah. Kyle is dead."
"I know." Sharp, like another knife and Sarah shot back a look that was clear in its intent. Don't tell me what I already know. She lived with that knowledge every day. Turning away again, she shifted her leg and couldn't bite back in time the gasp that came with the sharp pain of the subtle movement.
"Damn it," Derek growled, moving around in the room, looking at the pills on the table left by John, telling him to make sure she took it. "You gotta numb the pain," he said, sitting on his haunches right next to her, closer. "Come on. Sit up." Derek squeezed his hand between her back and the pillow behind it to help her up.
It made her a little light-headed to do that, to rock up like that. But since when did that faze her? Sarah sat up, waiting until the blood settled and she found a hand fisted in his shirt and she couldn't make herself let go. He smelled like Kyle and he smelled like a man.
Two things she'd been without for a very long time.
Goddamn it. Her eyes were so green. That fucking picture Kyle used to carry with him did not do her any fucking justice. The same picture he'd show Derek over and over and then they'd talk about what she looked like, what she'd say, how she'd feel. Kyle would go on and on that it was as if he was describing her to him. That at times, in the dark underground when he could finally catch sleep, Derek would instead think of Sarah, that picture, what she'd say and how she felt.
He took in a sharp breath and then hooked his hand behind her neck, leaning forward as he pulled her in. Their lips touched and he quietly sighed into it, waiting for her to protest, to push him away, to fucking land him a hard one.
But nothing came. Only a soft sigh, a parting of lips moving with his while Derek slid his tongue along the seam before gently pushing in.
What did Kyle taste like? Sarah couldn't even fool herself that she would remember. Derek tasted bitter, sharp, beer and something else, slightly sour. She opened to him, a hand coming up to cup his head and keep him there. Maybe she was still light-headed, still hallucinating, still lost. She fell back, pulling Derek down with her.
Fuck! He pressed down on her, gentle, aware she was hurt. Aware she wasn't his. But damn it, he couldn't stop. Still kissing, tasting, licking into Sarah's mouth while his hands slid up her side, cupping a breast over her shirt, squeezing once then his thumb brushed over a hard nipple through her clothes.
She didn't feel like he'd imagined her. She was smooth yet hard. A contrast. It was more than he had thought it would be. Better. Derek groaned, pulling back only to push the neck of her shirt down to kiss and lick at the warm skin there.
She hadn't showered. Sarah was sure she smelled. Reeked, even. But the mouth on her was hot, burning. She whimpered; he was close to leaning on her leg. Close. Careful. God. With a push to his chest, she got enough space to pull off her shirt and toss it away. She lay there for a moment, exposed, before pulling him down again.
When she took her shirt off, Derek shucked his, too. Tattoos and scars were scattered on his chest and back but that shit didn't matter. She'd seen him naked already. He hissed when he felt skin on warm skin, Pressing down on her, leaning against an arm so that he wouldn't crush her, or her leg. Derek kissed her again, quickly but deeply, then his mouth moved down over her chest flicking a tongue over her taut nipple.
There wasn't enough hair for her fingers to get lost. But Sarah could trace over his skull, feeling the ridges, the base of his skull where he would be weak, vulnerable. She went to shift and pain lanced up from her leg; she moaned.
The moan stirred something deep inside Derek. Something raw. Something primal. Something he'd kept hidden for so long. The image of Kyle holding that picture flashed in his mind and just as quickly as it came, Derek pushed it back. His mouth moved to the other nipple while his fingers toyed and pinched and tugged at the other. He groaned again, grinding his hips down to between her legs, bulge obvious now even through the material of his pants.
Her reaction was sharp and immediate. He was hard and she was wet. It wasn't easy, but she reached around his head, down, between them to palm at his cock, rub at the hardness there. Maybe she was seeing if it was real, not a hallucination; sometimes it was so hard to tell.
It was real. She moaned again, falling back, staring at him with those wide, green eyes, her nipples hard pebbles on her chest.
She started to undo her pants. They didn't have much time and no privacy.
All Derek could do was look back, meet the gaze. In his eyes he had the question there, the want already obvious, but when Sarah started to pull at her pants, that was answer enough for Derek. And, yes, the didn't have much time.
He helped her, careful with her leg, then Derek took off his own, kicking them away on the floor. He stood over Sarah, hard and naked before crawling back, easy on the injured leg, and it was just a small cant of his hips and the he was pressing against her; so wet.
An image flashed in his mind-- Kyle -- as Derek sank inside Sarah with a moan.
Her sound was strangled, bitten back, her teeth digging into her lower lip. He nearly felt too big, her leg ached, the skin stretching almost too tightly. And he felt too large, pushing into her too deeply, wedging her open. It nearly hurt, the pressure of it. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes.
Each thrust was slow, measured, steady while his eyes were intent on her face, watching, waiting for her to realize what they were doing and shove him off or worse--draw her gun on him. But then Sarah closed her eyes and an expression he'd never seen, never observed, was on her face and it was that that told him to keep moving, movements quickening.
God, she felt good. So hot, wet, tight. Derek kept groaning, his eyes closing now, too, visions of the images he'd imagined, that he and Kyle used to talk about were flitting through his mind. When he realized it, his eyes flew wide and Derek kept it on Sarah again.
It had been one night with Kyle, months with Charley, but Sarah had gotten out of the habit of sex. She was slow to wrap her good leg around Derek's hip, fingers digging into his shoulder. She could feel his chest against her nipples and it sent slivers of shocks down her spine. God.
They should stop. They should--
She clenched around him.
And it made Derek groan. He trembled, too and then thrust deeper, dipping his head to kiss and nip the side of Sarah's neck. He was at an odd angle, propped on one arm so that he didn't at all hurt her injured leg. That didn't stop him from moving more urgently, then reaching between them to press his fingers between her legs, the tips feeling each time he slid in and out of her. He moaned, rubbing that nub between her legs, watching Sarah's face, wanting to see her succumb to the pleasure.
It was almost as if it was pain; her face was contorted; she bit her lip, her eyes shut tight, body starting to tremble. She was coming apart; she couldn't hold herself together when it was like this.
All that gave her orgasm away was a sharp inhalation and a buck of her hips. Sarah's eyes rolled back behind her lids and she couldn't feel her fingertips.
Even in climax, she wanted to be in control, to hold back what was inside her. It was all right there on her face. Somehow, Derek thought of Kyle and what his brother might think about that. About Sarah, now. For some reason he'd imagine her a lot different before he met Kyle, before she knew her fate. Carefree, innocent, happy.
Derek moaned this time, the clench almost pulling his orgasm from him but then he forced it back, tensing to keep from coming. "Let it go, Sarah. Just feel it." He said, voice quivering and then he hastened the pace, thrusting deeper, faster, his finger still there, still on her and moving as fast as his thrusts. He wanted her to come again, to let the pleasure wash over her like it should. Like it was meant to be. Like how Kyle felt and saw that time they were together. Let Derek see that Sarah, too.
It was nearly too much and Sarah's body rebelled, but only for a moment before another wave of pleasure ran through her and she bit harder down on her lower lip, stifling her cry. When she'd been with Kyle, it had been the best sex she'd ever had. Gorgeous. Sometimes she still dreamt of it, her body getting warm, wet, when she did. She didn't call out his name, then, or now.
The clench made him moan louder, trembling hard and then Derek pulled out, grabbing his dick and pumping with a strong hand. He came all over Sarah's belly, groaning each time he spurt out, warm, wet, shuddering at the feel of it. He was too engulfed in the pleasure to concentrate on how Sarah, still, held back. In the back of his mind he told himself he'd might want to change that, not thinking that maybe it was a bad idea to think of a next time.
Each spurt on her skin made Sarah shudder and she couldn't look at him, not until she was sure he was done. Then, she opened her eyes and peered up at him. She needed to get cleaned up and dressed. Cameron could be watching. She ached, all over, the one between her legs the most pleasant. "A cloth."
Shit. What the fuck did he do? Derek frowned and then pressed his lips together to keep from talking. He grabbed his shirt and wiped down Sarah's belly before he got up, on his feet, putting his jeans back on hastily. He reached for her shirt but couldn't look at her either.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, Sarah took them and went to pull them on, but her leg disagreed. She grit back a groan. "Maybe something else. Quickly." A glance at him told her that this was as awkward for him as it was for her. There was a small comfort in that.
Derek picked up her shirt, then handed that to her. "Put that on." There was a throw over the back of the sofa. God. No one could know. Derek tugged that over her legs. "I'll get you something else." He was quick to get out of the room, to hers, opening drawers and pausing when he saw one filled with underwear, Derek touching some of it before he gave his head a shake and found another drawer, one with loose sweatpants, a pair of which he took with him back to the living room after grabbing a shirt of his own.
She didn't look at him as she pulled them on, teeth grit together with the pain of the movement, then she fell back on the sofa, arm over her eyes again. He didn't need to say it, neither did she. They both knew. No one could ever know. She closed her eyes.
For a very long time, Derek could only stare and he dare not say anything. Not even asking how she was. What was the point? He could see it all right there on her face. Finally, Derek moved, picking up the pills and the glass of water, handing it back to Sarah. Might as well try again. "Here. Drink this." Maybe it will numb other things and not just the pain in her leg.
"No pills." Sarah lifts her arm to glare at him before closing her eyes again. "I just need--" He knew what she needed, too, it seemed, beyond sleep, to heal, to fight.
There wasn't much else to say. She heard him sit. She lay there, waiting for sleep to come.
Derek kept his gaze on Sarah, until her eyes fell heavily, until she was breathing rhythmically. From the chair where he sat, Derek finally relaxed a bit, leaning back, sighing. He still stared at Sarah. The picture Kyle had, he kept saying, was more Kyle's type. But this Sarah? This was more Derek's type. He sighed again as he watched over her.
There was a reason Sarah Connor was a legend in the future. She was tough. She was a fighter. Derek couldn't help but admire that in her and deep down inside he wondered, still, what Kyle would have thought of that.
AUTHOR: dramady and jeck7
RATING: NC 17
PAIRING: Sarah Connor/Derek Reese
WARNINGS: refers to "The Good Wound."
DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of fictional individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the fictional persons whose names are used without permission.
SUMMARY: Sarah remembers Kyle and Derek remembers a Sarah in Kyle's picture.
A/N: A coda to "The Good Wound."
****
"Reese!" Sarah awoke with a start, also waking the pain in her leg from the bullet wound. Almost immediately, she hissed, falling back. God.
It was almost too much. To deal with the pain and with the realization that Kyle had just been a dream, a hallucination. He was gone again. She fell back on the sofa, her arm over her eyes.
"Sarah?" Derek was bent over her. "Sarah." She was talking in her sleep again. She kept saying 'Reese' and always 'Reese,' and each time Derek heard it something twisted in his chest. "Kyle's not here." He said, his voice soft but sharp.
After a moment, Sarah moved her arm and blinked up at him, frowning still as she always did. "I know," she said, looking away. "I know." God, she missed him. She wished desperately that Derek didn't, under that shitty aftershave, smell like Kyle.
She looked like shit. Actually, like shit that got hit by a god damned truck. Derek leaned further, peering at her, concern, rarely seen, was on his face. He frowned, then spoke slowly. "I think about him, too." It was something he'd never normally admit. But there it was. Sarah could take it for what it was worth.
"Not in the same way I do," she told him, grim. She cut her gaze back to him and didn't look away. He didn't look much better, actually; drawn. Tight. And he hadn't been shot. She didn't want to talk about this. Not with Derek. "John's okay?"
"John's fine," he answered, eyes on her face, taking in how haggard she looked. Tired. Something in his chest made his arm move that he slid his fingers through her hair, brushing the sweaty strands off her face before he cupped Sarah's cheek, looking into her eyes.
"Not the same way you do but enough," he said, his gaze not leaving hers. "Enough."
It was as if her chest was twisted up tight, hurting more than if she was shot. She gasped at the sudden sharp pain and she felt her eyes prickle, though they were dry like a desert. She heard herself again, say, "Reese," not pulling away from his hand.
Hearing that made Derek pull it back, though, and he straightened up, narrowed eyes at Sarah. "I'm not him. I'm not Kyle," he said a little too sharply. "He's dead, Sarah. Kyle is dead."
"I know." Sharp, like another knife and Sarah shot back a look that was clear in its intent. Don't tell me what I already know. She lived with that knowledge every day. Turning away again, she shifted her leg and couldn't bite back in time the gasp that came with the sharp pain of the subtle movement.
"Damn it," Derek growled, moving around in the room, looking at the pills on the table left by John, telling him to make sure she took it. "You gotta numb the pain," he said, sitting on his haunches right next to her, closer. "Come on. Sit up." Derek squeezed his hand between her back and the pillow behind it to help her up.
It made her a little light-headed to do that, to rock up like that. But since when did that faze her? Sarah sat up, waiting until the blood settled and she found a hand fisted in his shirt and she couldn't make herself let go. He smelled like Kyle and he smelled like a man.
Two things she'd been without for a very long time.
Goddamn it. Her eyes were so green. That fucking picture Kyle used to carry with him did not do her any fucking justice. The same picture he'd show Derek over and over and then they'd talk about what she looked like, what she'd say, how she'd feel. Kyle would go on and on that it was as if he was describing her to him. That at times, in the dark underground when he could finally catch sleep, Derek would instead think of Sarah, that picture, what she'd say and how she felt.
He took in a sharp breath and then hooked his hand behind her neck, leaning forward as he pulled her in. Their lips touched and he quietly sighed into it, waiting for her to protest, to push him away, to fucking land him a hard one.
But nothing came. Only a soft sigh, a parting of lips moving with his while Derek slid his tongue along the seam before gently pushing in.
What did Kyle taste like? Sarah couldn't even fool herself that she would remember. Derek tasted bitter, sharp, beer and something else, slightly sour. She opened to him, a hand coming up to cup his head and keep him there. Maybe she was still light-headed, still hallucinating, still lost. She fell back, pulling Derek down with her.
Fuck! He pressed down on her, gentle, aware she was hurt. Aware she wasn't his. But damn it, he couldn't stop. Still kissing, tasting, licking into Sarah's mouth while his hands slid up her side, cupping a breast over her shirt, squeezing once then his thumb brushed over a hard nipple through her clothes.
She didn't feel like he'd imagined her. She was smooth yet hard. A contrast. It was more than he had thought it would be. Better. Derek groaned, pulling back only to push the neck of her shirt down to kiss and lick at the warm skin there.
She hadn't showered. Sarah was sure she smelled. Reeked, even. But the mouth on her was hot, burning. She whimpered; he was close to leaning on her leg. Close. Careful. God. With a push to his chest, she got enough space to pull off her shirt and toss it away. She lay there for a moment, exposed, before pulling him down again.
When she took her shirt off, Derek shucked his, too. Tattoos and scars were scattered on his chest and back but that shit didn't matter. She'd seen him naked already. He hissed when he felt skin on warm skin, Pressing down on her, leaning against an arm so that he wouldn't crush her, or her leg. Derek kissed her again, quickly but deeply, then his mouth moved down over her chest flicking a tongue over her taut nipple.
There wasn't enough hair for her fingers to get lost. But Sarah could trace over his skull, feeling the ridges, the base of his skull where he would be weak, vulnerable. She went to shift and pain lanced up from her leg; she moaned.
The moan stirred something deep inside Derek. Something raw. Something primal. Something he'd kept hidden for so long. The image of Kyle holding that picture flashed in his mind and just as quickly as it came, Derek pushed it back. His mouth moved to the other nipple while his fingers toyed and pinched and tugged at the other. He groaned again, grinding his hips down to between her legs, bulge obvious now even through the material of his pants.
Her reaction was sharp and immediate. He was hard and she was wet. It wasn't easy, but she reached around his head, down, between them to palm at his cock, rub at the hardness there. Maybe she was seeing if it was real, not a hallucination; sometimes it was so hard to tell.
It was real. She moaned again, falling back, staring at him with those wide, green eyes, her nipples hard pebbles on her chest.
She started to undo her pants. They didn't have much time and no privacy.
All Derek could do was look back, meet the gaze. In his eyes he had the question there, the want already obvious, but when Sarah started to pull at her pants, that was answer enough for Derek. And, yes, the didn't have much time.
He helped her, careful with her leg, then Derek took off his own, kicking them away on the floor. He stood over Sarah, hard and naked before crawling back, easy on the injured leg, and it was just a small cant of his hips and the he was pressing against her; so wet.
An image flashed in his mind-- Kyle -- as Derek sank inside Sarah with a moan.
Her sound was strangled, bitten back, her teeth digging into her lower lip. He nearly felt too big, her leg ached, the skin stretching almost too tightly. And he felt too large, pushing into her too deeply, wedging her open. It nearly hurt, the pressure of it. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes.
Each thrust was slow, measured, steady while his eyes were intent on her face, watching, waiting for her to realize what they were doing and shove him off or worse--draw her gun on him. But then Sarah closed her eyes and an expression he'd never seen, never observed, was on her face and it was that that told him to keep moving, movements quickening.
God, she felt good. So hot, wet, tight. Derek kept groaning, his eyes closing now, too, visions of the images he'd imagined, that he and Kyle used to talk about were flitting through his mind. When he realized it, his eyes flew wide and Derek kept it on Sarah again.
It had been one night with Kyle, months with Charley, but Sarah had gotten out of the habit of sex. She was slow to wrap her good leg around Derek's hip, fingers digging into his shoulder. She could feel his chest against her nipples and it sent slivers of shocks down her spine. God.
They should stop. They should--
She clenched around him.
And it made Derek groan. He trembled, too and then thrust deeper, dipping his head to kiss and nip the side of Sarah's neck. He was at an odd angle, propped on one arm so that he didn't at all hurt her injured leg. That didn't stop him from moving more urgently, then reaching between them to press his fingers between her legs, the tips feeling each time he slid in and out of her. He moaned, rubbing that nub between her legs, watching Sarah's face, wanting to see her succumb to the pleasure.
It was almost as if it was pain; her face was contorted; she bit her lip, her eyes shut tight, body starting to tremble. She was coming apart; she couldn't hold herself together when it was like this.
All that gave her orgasm away was a sharp inhalation and a buck of her hips. Sarah's eyes rolled back behind her lids and she couldn't feel her fingertips.
Even in climax, she wanted to be in control, to hold back what was inside her. It was all right there on her face. Somehow, Derek thought of Kyle and what his brother might think about that. About Sarah, now. For some reason he'd imagine her a lot different before he met Kyle, before she knew her fate. Carefree, innocent, happy.
Derek moaned this time, the clench almost pulling his orgasm from him but then he forced it back, tensing to keep from coming. "Let it go, Sarah. Just feel it." He said, voice quivering and then he hastened the pace, thrusting deeper, faster, his finger still there, still on her and moving as fast as his thrusts. He wanted her to come again, to let the pleasure wash over her like it should. Like it was meant to be. Like how Kyle felt and saw that time they were together. Let Derek see that Sarah, too.
It was nearly too much and Sarah's body rebelled, but only for a moment before another wave of pleasure ran through her and she bit harder down on her lower lip, stifling her cry. When she'd been with Kyle, it had been the best sex she'd ever had. Gorgeous. Sometimes she still dreamt of it, her body getting warm, wet, when she did. She didn't call out his name, then, or now.
The clench made him moan louder, trembling hard and then Derek pulled out, grabbing his dick and pumping with a strong hand. He came all over Sarah's belly, groaning each time he spurt out, warm, wet, shuddering at the feel of it. He was too engulfed in the pleasure to concentrate on how Sarah, still, held back. In the back of his mind he told himself he'd might want to change that, not thinking that maybe it was a bad idea to think of a next time.
Each spurt on her skin made Sarah shudder and she couldn't look at him, not until she was sure he was done. Then, she opened her eyes and peered up at him. She needed to get cleaned up and dressed. Cameron could be watching. She ached, all over, the one between her legs the most pleasant. "A cloth."
Shit. What the fuck did he do? Derek frowned and then pressed his lips together to keep from talking. He grabbed his shirt and wiped down Sarah's belly before he got up, on his feet, putting his jeans back on hastily. He reached for her shirt but couldn't look at her either.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, Sarah took them and went to pull them on, but her leg disagreed. She grit back a groan. "Maybe something else. Quickly." A glance at him told her that this was as awkward for him as it was for her. There was a small comfort in that.
Derek picked up her shirt, then handed that to her. "Put that on." There was a throw over the back of the sofa. God. No one could know. Derek tugged that over her legs. "I'll get you something else." He was quick to get out of the room, to hers, opening drawers and pausing when he saw one filled with underwear, Derek touching some of it before he gave his head a shake and found another drawer, one with loose sweatpants, a pair of which he took with him back to the living room after grabbing a shirt of his own.
She didn't look at him as she pulled them on, teeth grit together with the pain of the movement, then she fell back on the sofa, arm over her eyes again. He didn't need to say it, neither did she. They both knew. No one could ever know. She closed her eyes.
For a very long time, Derek could only stare and he dare not say anything. Not even asking how she was. What was the point? He could see it all right there on her face. Finally, Derek moved, picking up the pills and the glass of water, handing it back to Sarah. Might as well try again. "Here. Drink this." Maybe it will numb other things and not just the pain in her leg.
"No pills." Sarah lifts her arm to glare at him before closing her eyes again. "I just need--" He knew what she needed, too, it seemed, beyond sleep, to heal, to fight.
There wasn't much else to say. She heard him sit. She lay there, waiting for sleep to come.
Derek kept his gaze on Sarah, until her eyes fell heavily, until she was breathing rhythmically. From the chair where he sat, Derek finally relaxed a bit, leaning back, sighing. He still stared at Sarah. The picture Kyle had, he kept saying, was more Kyle's type. But this Sarah? This was more Derek's type. He sighed again as he watched over her.
There was a reason Sarah Connor was a legend in the future. She was tough. She was a fighter. Derek couldn't help but admire that in her and deep down inside he wondered, still, what Kyle would have thought of that.