Forces of Nature

May. 28th, 2008 09:29 am

Fandom: SG1/SGA

Characters: Sam/Vala

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Smut.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Summary: Vala's thumb rubs a little circle on the side of her knee, and Sam shifts around in her chair, feeling the heat pooling between her legs, holding on to the arms of her chair harder to keep from touching herself.

Kink: (7) Sensory deprivation (touch)

Author's Note: I love my wife! This prompt I loved... slightly less.


"When was the last time you fucked?"

Sam chokes on the coffee she had just swallowed, feeling the burn up through her sinuses, barely managing to stop herself from spraying a mouthful all over her laptop. She looks up to find Vala leaning against her doorframe, the technicians in the control room moving around behind her like nothing abnormal just happened. Sam wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, asking, "Excuse me?"

"The last time you fucked. When was it?" Vala is staring at her, thick, dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders, body draped against the doorway. She looks perfectly serious, like she sees nothing at all wrong with the question, and knowing Vala, she probably doesn't.

Sam clears her throat, wondering once more if there's something about this city that makes people act crazy, trying to keep her voice quiet when she says, "You can't ask me things like that."

Vala frowns, sharp mouth turning down, eyebrows drawing together. Then she grins, stepping into the room and waving the door closed, throwing herself down into one of the chairs in front of Sam's desk. She hooks one leg over the arm of the chair, swinging her foot back and forth. Vala says, "There, now no one can hear us," like it solves everything.

"You still can't—"

"Oh, that long then?" Vala is still grinning, stretching an arm out across the back of the chair, hooking her heel around one of the legs.

Sam swallows heavily, blinking and looking back at her computer screen. She's suddenly finding it frustratingly hard to concentrate on the spreadsheets that need her approval. She can hear the whisper of sound from Vala's leather pants every time she swings her foot. Sam tries to pull herself together, "This is really none of your—"

"You poor thing. It's obviously worse than I thought. What's it been? Six months? A year? Two?" Vala sounds a mixture of amused and horrified. And Sam can still hear the leather, back and forth, back and forth, driving her crazy.

Sam looks up, meaning to order her out of the room. Vala has one fingertip between her lips, and she grins when Sam looks at her. Sam decides that just going along with this will probably get Vala out of her hair fastest, and says, "A little over two."

Vala nods, expression going serious. She drops her hand, her fingers fanning out across her thigh, pale against the dark leather when she says, "It's a good thing I'm here, then. How do you like it?" By her tone she might as well have been asking about the weather.

There's nothing for Sam to choke on this time, which is just as well. She boggles at the other woman, feeling her mouth fall open in surprise. Vala rolls her eyes, leaning her head back, saying up to the ceiling, "Shall I guess then? I'm very good at this game." Sam gapes at her some more.

Vala's posture changes somehow, though Sam can't pick out any specific thing. There's just something different about the way she's dragging her fingertips across the top of the chair, and she pulls her leg up, no long swinging it, bracing her heel on the arm of the chair instead. Sam finds herself staring at the line of the other woman's thigh, catching herself right before she follows the seam to its inevitable conclusion.

When Sam jerks her eyes up, she finds Vala watching her. She doesn't recall the other woman's eyes being that dark when she came into the room. Vala's voice startles Sam out of her thoughts, "You like it slow and soft, working up to slow and hard. You want to be able to absorb and dissect every touch, cataloging it and trying to figure out why it makes you respond the way it does."

Sam can feel a heat rising beneath her skin, almost a burn up her sides and across her breasts, surprised by the reaction. She means to look away but Vala holds her gaze, the other woman's red lips moving, "I bet that when you started masturbating you didn't get off for the longest time, because you kept getting distracted."

Sam swallows, her throat dry, her hands clenched tight around the arms of her chair. There is a part of her, distant and rapidly shrinking further, screaming that she should order Vala out of the room. But she can't quite make herself move, no more than she can make herself speak.

"Most sex is a disappointment, isn't it? Too sloppy and over too soon? Barely worth the effort you put into it when your partner doesn't know how you want to be touched." Vala moves, her hand on her thigh sliding down to her knee and then slowly sliding back up, until her thumb is pressed right against the juncture of her thigh and hip. Sam watches, enraptured. "What about kissing, Sam?"

Vala is rubbing her thumb back and forth, and Sam answers distractedly, barely even registering that maybe she shouldn't, "It's fine."

Vala snorts, her hand going still, sliding back down to her knee, resting there. Sam feels a sharp flare of disappointment, a throbbing ache from between her legs. She says, "I—" and then realizes she has no idea what to finish the thought up with. She's not even sure what Vala is doing here, besides making Sam feel like a hormonal teenager.

"What do you like about kissing?" Vala's thumb rubs a little circle on the side of her knee, and Sam shifts around in her chair, feeling the heat pooling between her legs, holding on to the arms of her chair harder to keep from touching herself. God. She's supposed to be working.

Instead, her mouth is moving, "Lips. I like soft lips." Vala hums, her hand sliding back up her thigh while Sam speaks, stopping when the words do. Sam lets out a shuddering breath, "And tongue, just a little, without too much spit. And teeth—" Vala's fingers reach the top of her thigh, sliding around to the inside, pausing when Sam does, "—along my bottom lip."

Vala's thighs are spread open, have been since she came into the room, but now there's no way for Sam to ignore it. Not with Vala's hand right there, resting against her thigh, and Sam needs to see her touch herself so suddenly that it surprises her. The ache between her own thighs is startling.

Vala says, softly, "And where do you like to be touched, Sam?"

Sam hesitates for a second, and Vala stretches her thumb out, rubbing across herself. The words fall off Sam's lips, "My neck. My shoulders. My—" words catch, embarrassment momentarily reminding her that she's behaving in a completely ridiculous manner. Vala slouches further down in the chair, tilting her hips up, sliding her hand around and dragging one finger from the curve of her ass up over her zipper. "—breasts."

"And do you like to be eaten out?"

Sam groans, doesn't mean to, worried that she's gouging holes in the arms of the chair from gripping it so hard. Her eyes go automatically to Vala's mouth, red and so mobile. Her mind is making connections she wishes it wouldn't, about her on her back and Vala between her thighs, dark hair falling across Sam's stomach and thighs. "Sam?"

Words are not coming easily, but Sam manages a nod. Vala licks her bottom lip, her tongue pink and wet, and Sam shifts in desperation, wishing she had something, anything, to grind against, wishing she wasn't in her office.

Vala stretches to her feet like a cat, all easy grace and long limbs. Sam drags her eyes up and down the other woman's body, distantly ashamed of herself, so turned on that she can't help it. When Vala stalks towards Sam's desk, Sam can only watch, her breath coming fast and ragged, aching and needing and out of her mind with want.

Vala steps behind her, and before Sam can even twist her head over her shoulder to look the other woman is spinning Sam's chair around. In close Sam can smell Vala's perfume, something alien and sweet, and she lets her eyes fall half closed, breathing it in deep. Vala is leaning over her, not touching her anywhere, and Sam feels like she might scream from wishing the other woman would.

When Vala speaks, her breath brushes across Sam's mouth, "Are you wet?"

Sam manages another jerky nod, torn between staring at Vala's dark eyes, or her sharp mouth. She's breathing fast and shallow, knuckles white on the arms of the chair, her thighs, God, fallen open in invitation. Sam's voice is hoarse, "Please."

Vala smiles, something filthy and wide, and then she's reaching down, placing one fingertip low between Sam's thighs, dragging it up slowly, Sam's hips hitching forward, her head tipping back, from the overwhelming heat of being touched after waiting so long. It feels like every nerve in her body is focused in on the single point of contact, pleasure and want aching through her. Sam moans, eyes fluttering shut, dizzy with pleasure.

Vala's touch leaves her, and Sam whimpers at the loss, but then the other woman's long, clever, fingers are on her button and zipper. When Vala slides her fingers past Sam's waistband, each touch of her skin like a fresh burst of fire, Sam obligingly lifts her hips, the other woman pulling pants and underwear over Sam's hips, down her thighs, hooking them over her knees.

Sam gasps, letting Vala pull her hips forward, letting the other woman push her thighs apart, the waistband of Sam's pants digging into her lower legs, an ache that comes nowhere close to matching the one between Sam's thighs.

Vala's hands are warm, running up Sam's inner thighs, her nails just a shadow of pressure. The cool air of the room is startling against Sam, and she shivers, and then Vala is leaning forward, her dark hair falling all across Sam's pale skin, her clever tongue moving over Sam.

Sam moves, finally, getting a hand in Vala's hair, holding on for dear life as the woman licks and sucks at her, sliding her tongue into Sam's body before licking over her again, humming happily the entire time, the sound tangled together with the wet noises she's making.

Sam shudders, groaning, release rushing through her slow and thick and sweet, weighing her limbs down and dancing behind her eyes. She reaches for Vala with clumsy hands.

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