DISCLAIMER: The story, and characters and anything and everything else concerning SG: SG1 belong to MGM, Gekko, Secret Productions etc, they are so not mine and no money is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A sequel of sorts to Fire/Flame. I wrote the first four paragraphs of this the same day as I wrote Fire/Flame. And that was that. Then the rest of it came to me this evening at about 9.15 pm. It's now 11.20 pm. And I've gotta go to work in the morning!
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author
We slow-danced in our bedroom, our arms wrapped around each other, Janet's head resting on my breast, my head bent over hers, my nose buried in her hair. Occasionally we would kiss, long loving wet and deep touches. Our party clothes had long since been discarded, puddles of gold and blue silk on the floor.
"I love you so much," I whispered, brushing my fingers through her thick tawny hair. "I know I don't say it often enough, Janet."
"And I love you, sweetheart. And you don't have to say it. Every time you look at me, I know." Janet cupped her hand around the back of my head and drew me down into another kiss, gently biting at my lower lip. Slowly she steered us across the room until the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed. Then with a wicked grin, she pushed.
I let myself fall a huge smile on my face.
The contrast between the uptight almost ready to bolt woman I had rescued from the party and this open and loving person was greater than I would have believed possible in one person. Before I met Sam that was. My friend, my lover continues to amaze me. I straddled one long slim thigh, gasping as Sam raised her knee to rub gently between my legs. Sam's hands were in my hair and I let my head be pulled down as Sam's lips met mine in a searing kiss.
"I love you," she whispered again. "I love how you make me feel, I love what you do to my body when you touch me. I love you for making me feel, for reminding me who I really am." Sam's knee pressed harder at my centre and I gasped. Then I was being rolled, Sam's brilliant eyes looking down at me as she smiled.
"Make me feel it, Sammie. Please."
"No problem, my love," Sam began to trail kisses down my body, starting at the place on my neck that she knew had some sort of chi line straight to my centre. I felt myself become boneless, so different from my usual energized self. It pleased Sam immensely that she could do this for me.
There is a pattern to our lovemaking. I don't mean to say that it is predictable but there are things that we enjoy giving and receiving, games that we like to play. Neither of us are selfish in our lovemaking getting almost as much pleasure out of each other's climax as we do in our own. To transform, to mould, to take things slower or quicker often without a word being spoken. But even among the familiar there is always the opportunity to try something new. And tonight I am inspired to do just that. For her. All for her.
I sit up, straddling her but and take her hand in mine turning it palm upwards as if I was going to read her fortune. I follow her lifeline with my finger noting (though I do not believe in such things really) that it is long and unbroken. My fingers move around the base of her thumb feeling the strength of her hands remembering the sureness of her touch and then pause over the pulse point feeling life flare beneath the surface. The skin of her inner arm is pale, so soft. I stroke up to the elbow and down again watching her face. She blinks slowly her eyes not leaving mine. Just the tips of my fingers touching her as I pause in the dip of her elbow following the line of a vein for a moment and then negotiating the smooth muscles of her upper arm, the deceptive strength of her slender shoulders that take on so many burdens so many cares. The strong clean line of her collarbone that leads to that beautiful dip at the base of her throat where she loves to be kissed. But that is for later. I run the back of my fingers up the long line of her throat to her jawline, feeling her swallow. Her eyes are so dark, their focus soft as she gives herself fully to this. As I caress her cheek she turns her head slightly into my touch and her lips graze my palm and I hear a sere whisper "I love you." Both my hands come into play now as I caress the planes of her face, run my thumbs along the line of her brow my fingers running through her hairline and then I reverse my progress, my fingers passing down over her face again, down her throat and her upper chest until I reached her breasts, cupping and caressing them, my thumbs passing over her nipples feeling them swell and thrust against my touch. I heard her breath hiss in her throat as I pressed my fingers gently down her sternum feeling the necessary strength of that cage of bone. It had to be strong to hold such a beautiful heart, the heart of someone who was so generous with herself, her time, her love.
The soft skin of her abdomen welcomed my touch. I felt the muscles beneath the skin twitch as I scribed my love across that pale canvas letting my fingers splay, my palms flat against the warmth of her skin. I feel the delicate sculpture of her hip bones, protecting the most secret of her places. I move down her body, no longer straddling her and now it is she who surrounds me. Her thighs part, the dark hairs at her centre arrowing down, pointing the way. I let my fingers trace the outline of her centre, the edge of my nail passing for a moment over the nub at her centre. Her back arches and I hear my name a prayer imploring more please more. My fingers are damp, delicately scented. I pause, breathe her in, let her fill me. But I have not finished. I run my fingers down the length of her thigh, feeling the strength of her long bones, the muscles and tendons. So much hidden strength, so much stamina. I let my touch linger in the hollow behind her knee, smile as I hear her breathe hitch again, this time in laughter. My love is ticklish. At the base of her knee is a long scar, the legacy of a childhood accident. I run my thumb along it, the small imperfection adding to her beauty. My goddess was human after all. And now I reached her feet, so small, the bones and arches delicately defined, her toenails painted a dark burgundy. I held its small weight in my hand, ran my thumb across the arch.
I know her better than I know anyone, better than I know myself and yet as I watch her watch me go through this strange new ritual it is as if I don't know her at all. "I love you," I said and the words said everything and at the same time did not even begin to encompass anything that I felt saw and knew about this person.
"I know," she said and her voice is husky with emotion, longing. For me. She beckoned me into her arms. I lay down beside her and she held me for a long moment. Skin to skin, that beautiful body that I had mapped with my fingers committed to memory. My fingertips tingled in tactile recollection. If, god forbid, we never met again, if somehow I lost her, I would always have this. I would never forget.
That was the most startlingly erotic thing that has ever happened to me. Carnal cartography. My whole body is sensitized. And all she did was touch me, map me. Only briefly did she actually touch anything officially classified as an erogenous zone but I may have to rewrite the textbook on that one.
Somehow she always manages to surprise me. I let my hand rest on her abdomen, feeling her breath, the quiet rhythm soothing. Her hand is back on my thigh, her fingers passing slowly up and down my skin. It is not my imagination that the turnpoint of every pass is a little higher up my leg. I nuzzle at her throat. "You make me feel so special, so loved," I whisper. "No one ever made me feel like you do."
"You are special, Janet. Unique. I'm the lucky one. I get to do this," she said and now there is no mistaking her touch. After the soft slow approach the sudden intrusion is startling but I welcome it. I am more than ready for her. My juices slick her fingers. She begins to move faster as our bodies move against one another skin on skin as I take her in as deeply as I can wanting more needing everything that she can give. We kiss, and my tongue invades her mouth in mimicry of what her fingers are doing to me. I feel the wave breaking inside me and shudder, my breath searing the skin of her shoulder as I scream her name, tasting her flesh marking her as mine and mine alone. Her hand touches my cheek and I kiss the palm the pulse feeling how fast it is how close she is as I ride her to a second orgasm as everything whites out.
I am boneless, thoughtless. Aftershocks ripple through me the only reminder of who and what I am. I am loved. I am hers. These are the important things. She anchors me, whispers my name that she is mine. I feel her smile against my skin. I want to do more show her how but between one breath and the next I slide into sleep. She knows. She will wait.
I feel her breath slow against my cheek, the rhythm steady into sleep. I do not mind. Tonight was for her. For all the times she had been there for me, silencing my insecurities, solacing my loneliness. Completing me.
Sleep will come easy tonight and dreams will be sweet. For both of us.
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