DISCLAIMER: I only borrowed them for a while. MGM and whoever can have them back whenever they want.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
DEDICATED: to my muse and my love.

Interlude 22: Soar

By Celievamp


What she does to me… the way she makes me feel… and after I soar, her strong tender arms guide me down, bring me back to myself, back to her.

Her dark adapted eyes stare down at me from a few inches away as I open my eyes again, my breath still sounding so loud in my head. Her cheeks and chin are glistening in the dim light as she lowers her head to kiss my breasts again, almost gentle this time but residual sensitivity from all that has gone before magnifies the sensation so that it's almost enough to tip me over once more. Much as I love her touch, I crave her touch, I want to send my flygirl soaring. She finds it hard to believe that watching her gives me almost as much pleasure as when she does it to me. I wind my fingers in her short blonde hair and tug at her. Obedient to me as ever she moves up my body until I can kiss her sweet soft lips tasting her tasting myself on her.

She lets out a very unmilitary squeak that is half protest half arousal as I flip us, quickly moving to straddle her. That deep sweet ache inside me demands retribution. I rub myself against the soft planes of her abdomen, feeling her muscles clench and quiver beneath her skin as my hands mould her breasts, my thumbs rub over her erect nipples and she gasps, the sound turning into an almost purr as I lower my face to them, rubbing my cheeks against their softness for a moment before taking one nipple into my mouth, rolling my tongue across its pebbled surface. I slide from straddling her abdomen to straddling one toned thigh as she opens to me and she is already so hot and wet, slickness engulfing my fingers as I find her soft places. Her hand slides across my back to hold me against her as my fingers circle and stroke through her folds, the nub of her clit already hard, demanding my attention.

I can hear her voice whispering under the moan of her breath. At first it is my name, over and over again, almost chanting and then other words creep in… fuck me… harder… bite… there… there… that's it… love… love you so… so'dal na me'dal… kistha da kalash… kistha… Janet!

I don't think she knows she does it, make her soar so high so far away from Major Samantha Carter and all that she is, that there's a place I can take her, a place where she's so out of control that that little bit of her that is Jolinar comes out and she speaks to me in Goa'uld. It happened for the first time a few weeks after she was blended and she was still so raw I didn't dare tell her. Later, I asked Teal'c what the words meant and I swear I saw him blush.

She loves me, my Samantha. Loves me with everything that she is. So'dal na me'dal – heart of my heart. Kistha da kalash – you make my soul fly. Words and phrases so intimate, so personal, concepts that we might have thought beyond the Goa'uld. Apparently not.

Her back arches as she cries my name, the heat of her orgasm apparent in the blush that suffuses her pale skin like a sunrise. I lay my head on her breast, my body covering hers as I listen to her heart beat gradually slow. Her hands slide over my body, never still, the backs of her fingers gentle up my sides, across my ribs where she knows I am ticklish.

And as the afterglow fades I can feel my tush is getting cold. I move to hook the blanket back over it and she moans, holds me tighter unwilling to lose her human-blanket. I roll off her and pull the blanket over us as she settles into my side, her head on my shoulder, her arm my body, hand curved around my hip. She snuggles, whispers that she loves me and between one breath and the next is asleep.

I lie awake a little longer, savouring this precious time, the comforting weight and presence of her. She makes me soar, my flygirl. And who she is, what she represents, what she could mean for our future… loving her might just be the most important thing that I do. And yet my feelings for her would be no different whatever she did with her life, I know that.

All those worlds she speaks of sometimes, the evidence of them that I've seen with my own eyes… I stroke my fingers over my Samantha's cheek as she nuzzles sleepily at my skin. All those worlds… and nothing in them that is better than this.

The End

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