| Bitter Devotion |
| by tigermoth26 |
 |
| Title: Bitter Devotion by: tigermoth26 Rated: NC17 Pairing: sam/janet Category: angst Summary: "Gasping, she draws her mouth back quickly, as if burnt. Flashing guilty hazel eyes up at Sam: Property of the US Air Force..." Disclaimer: Stargate is not mine. Bitter Devotion "I hate you." Strands of chestnut hair tied neatly, crumple between writhing fingers. Blonde lashes swing shut against heat-pinked cheeks as mouths gasp in humid air. A tanned arm wrestles free from between the tangled bodies. Neat-trimmed fingernails dig into coarse khaki fabric stretched over a firm behind. "Damn you…I hate you more…" The declaration rushes, harsh, from Janet's lips. Closed eyes glower, angry, as Sam tongues the contour from her neck to her ear. Janet's back is pressed, rough against the bedroom door. One slender thigh firmly jams itself beneath the juncture of Sam's hips, awakening nerves that tingle as rough cotton BDU's grind over nylon enclosed thighs. Two pairs of hands work frantically on separate shirts. Janet's necktie hangs loose, her starched blue collar open, neat uniform in disarray. The couple stumbles backward, away from the door, knees giving way as they fall upon the bed. "I hate the way you make me feel, Sam. Why do you do this to me? I hate this. I hate you. I..." Sam's black tee-shirt proves too much of an obstacle for impatient hands. Fly buttons retreat hastily through buttonholes as fingers dive beneath the cloth to sink slowly amongst heated folds. White teeth bite down on bruised lips whilst Sam raises her hips into her lover's hand. *Don't Stop* are the words she doesn't say. Janet doesn't stop, and neither does Sam. Blouse buttons skitter across polished floorboards. Its open edges dangle uneventfully, revealing the curve of light-tanned breasts that spill over the top of Janet's white cotton bra. The roughened pad of Sam's thumb circles around the mocha tip of one breast. The other hand braces at the back of her lover's neck, pulling her down into another vigorous kiss. With eager mouths otherwise occupied, exploring hands are free to sweep over stockinged calves and up towards hidden places. "Off." Sam tugs distractedly at a blue skirt waistband. "Off." Her lover agrees. Blue cloth crumples silent to the floor. Nylon threads send out a machine-gun rapport. Away flies the starched blouse, the white cotton bra. Boots, socks, pants, black tee-shirt and underwear. All is shed in favour of the touch of skin on skin. Sam returns her hand to Janet's leg. Creeping fingers spider upward, tracing shivers over waiting nerves. Angered emotions melt away under tender ministrations. Hard, dark eyes filled with irrational rage, soften as they linger on her lover's face. Brown lashes flutter, half open. Hungry lips move to greet the gasp that tumbles from Janet's mouth. "Good?" Sam's voice nudges softly at Janet's ear. Janet pulls her lower lip between her teeth and releases it slowly. Her clutching fingers draw valleys in the pillowcase as she trembles above her lover. She catches sight of her Air Force blazer flung in passion across the bedroom chair. Her military conscience reels with guilty discontent as her answer forms. "Oh…yes." Her answer shatters both their hearts. Sam's gentle touches falter, guilty with the knowledge that they both share something which they should not have. Janet leans down to press kisses to Sam's collarbone and to the pulse-beat at the hollow of her throat. Janet's flushed cheek brushes against warm breasts, tasting the salt of her lover's skin. Sam's hand is replaced by the toned muscle of her thigh, caressing wet fingers over the rise of her lover's buttocks and along the valley of her spine to crumple strands of dark brown hair. Sliding backwards, Janet presses her lips to the shadowed hollow between Sam's breasts, dancing patterns with her tongue against the place where her dog tags would lie. Gasping, she draws her mouth back quickly, as if burnt. Flashing guilty hazel eyes up at Sam: Property of the US Air Force, her mind thinks accusingly. Sam mirrors Janet's touch with her fingertips in silent communication. The Air Force owns Janet, too. It owns both of them, their lives, their minds, their actions…their hearts. Sweet kisses flutter over Sam's eyelids, her cheek, beneath her chin, the inside of her wrist as it strokes wisps of curling hair behind Janet's ear. Warmth blossoms over perfumed chest, moving southward as Janet kneels, running warm hands from the small of her lover's back to slender calves and up again. She runs her thumb-pads up along the inside edges of her lover's thighs. Sam's knees draw up slowly beneath the insistent caress. Dextrous fingers clutch the sturdy wood of the headboard, flexing in response to her lover's fingers as they glide over intimate places. Lightly, Janet tips her tongue to the dark, musk-scented velvet. Drawing over tingling flesh as one might feast upon an oyster, delighting in the discovery of a hidden pearl, sweet and pulsing beneath her tongue. Each pass elicits a breathy exclamation from her lover's throat. The wordless noises draw together, rising in pitch and frequency until Sam pulls Janet up against her, pressed tightly - breast to breast. "Oh Janet, I hate the way you make me feel…" She declares softly, then kisses her as if there were no tomorrow. Floorboards screech beneath their bed, shuddered by the fiery tangle of limbs. Breathless exclamations honey the air. "Sam." A tear slips from tired eyes as the rocking slowly ceases. Blushing cheeks rest heavy upon the pillow, still-cooling bodies rolling apart and away, leaving a void of guilt in the middle of their bed. Two sets of troubled eyes blink at the darkness, staring intently at the walls on opposite sides of the room. Regulations held so tightly lie shattered. Glittering accusingly like so many shards of broken glass. "I hate you." What they have done is wrong. What they feel is wrong. They have taken part in something which was not theirs to take, and now… The empty space between them gives testimony of an unspoken agreement. Never. Again. |