Fic: 'Through the Flames' (Stargate Atlantis, John/Sam, R, 1/1) Title: Through the Flames Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Characters: John/Sam Word Count: 505 Rating: R (for sexual content) Spoilers: N/A Challenge:Porn Battle prompt: Stargate Atlantis, John/Sam, festival. Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: Sam can't resist John.
Through the Flames
Sam kisses John drunkenly at some harvest celebration off-world. They've been casting looks at each other all night, catching each other's expressions through dancing firelight. Expressions easily as smoldering as the ash raining around her.
The moonshine is a little too strong, and she's been doing this too long and really, really should know better. They call her brilliant, but really, she never learns. After a second helping, or maybe a third, she weaves her way through the party guests and plants one on him.
It's slow, and maybe a little sloppy, and there's tongue, and he definitely doesn't push her away. She's hot from the alcohol and from standing too close to a fire, and she feels close to combustion when he settles a hand on the curve of her waist. Warmth spreads like a liquid spill from the center point of his touch. When it's over, John just smirks at her the same way he has been all night, the kind of look that does her no favors whatsoever. He nods his head in the distance, and she nods her head in agreement.
They're pressed against a tree, the crackle of the fire dancing through the crisp evening air. A piece of bark digs just below her left shoulder blade. Her pants get tugged down, and a cool evening breeze caresses its way across her exposed thighs, cool and soft where John is hot and rough. John's hand is strong on her knee, curving her leg up around him.
They're pressed against each other, mouth to mouth, belly to belly, and lower, where he grinds into her pelvis with slow circles and she murmurs incoherently against him.
He's stronger than she was expecting, given that he's kind of skinny. A hand grips at her ass, palms and fingers spread and holding her firm. She rolls the condom on him, the angle awkward, a tree holding straight against her curving spine. An ache starts low in her back, matching the ache between her legs in intensity, although only one is going to get any relief any time soon.
John thrusts in sharply and a sigh of pleasure ripples Sam's body. He goes hard and fast, as though he's all too aware they're on a tentative deadline, both in regards to the festival and their own guilty consciences. Whatever the reasoning behind it, Sam doesn't particularly care. Her appreciative groans are far from complaints. He slides in and out of her with a harsh rhythm that she recognizes as the one she set with her tongue earlier.
His mouth lands on hers just in time to swallow her cry as she comes. He follows shortly thereafter, and collapses, breathing into her neck, laughing stupidly into her skin as he pins her. She wonders if the pattern of the tree bark will leave an impression on her skin even through her jacket. The entire evening leaves an impression on her mind, John's gaze boring into her, his eyes as hot as the fire he stares through.