Disclaimers: I own no part of the Stargate world, I make no money from this endeavour. Let my muse play.
Note: This was written in response to the Beya LJ Black and White challenge. I'm not too sure about this fic, but what else can I do but post it and be done with it. Been rather unmotivated in fic and life in general lately.
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Silver moonlight and dark shadows slid under her gaze. She watched the contrasting lights shift with the movement, her perception slowed. In times of heightened awareness vision slows, slows to a crawl full of every detail, every heightened moment an eternity. She watched now through a surreal slowness the tiny details of the light shifting over muscle. Reaching out she watched her hand slide into the mixture of shadows, felt now under her palm the changing contours of musculature, felt the warmth of his skin, and she closed her eyes. Lights flashed through her eyelids as she drew her hand up and over his hip, sensitive to every movement; so sharp and arousing. She feels it all; the warmth against the chilled night air, male against female. Contrasts. In breath, out breath.
Her breath echoed through her open mouth, the rush of sound as the air enters her body, filling her lungs, expanding her chest. Then out, echoing out with a whimper of sound. Above her she hears his own heavy sigh of pleasure, and she opens her eyes. Watches as the dark shadows shift over his naked body, meets his gaze and draws him closer. Pulling him even deeper into her body, into her heart; into that place she had sought to fill with her own confidence. She hates him then, hates him for completing her in a way she would never be able to alone. Hates that she feels so much, that her heart and body are in control and she can do nothing but surrender to what she feels. What he makes her feel.
In and out he moves. Slowly sliding over and into her in the continuing surreal slowness. She feels everything. Filling and emptying. She moves to meet him, lifting and sinking. Everything echoing around her in sharp all encompassing contrasts.
Before John and now with him.
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He had wanted it to be special. He had wanted it to be what he had fantasised about. Had wanted it passionate, yet playful. Raunchy yet meaningful. Amazing and special. He had wanted to please her, and to enjoy her. He had fantasised her looking at him in wonder, her pleasure and appreciation plain. He had wanted her to open herself to him, to take him into her and to hold him with overwhelming need. He had wanted it to be so good that she would never want another man.
He had been wrong. He had been ready to experience and judge in absolutes; seen what could happen as being good or bad. What he had wanted and what he didn't want to happen.
What he had felt had not fallen into any category he had experienced or defined before. He wouldn't call it amazing, or the best his ever had, because he wasn't capable of describing it. He had never been one for anything romantic. His idea of romance was picking out the best location for a picnic so the lady would be in 'the mood'. He didn't go in for all the chick emotional movie scenes. He didn't believe in love at first sight and he wasn't sure he had ever really been in love before.
This shocked him though. This had been something he had been completely unprepared for and he finally understood why he had been keeping his distance for all these years. Finally that tiny worried voice that had kept him from making a move became loud and unavoidable. It was this. The sudden and basic understanding that he would do anything for this woman; go anywhere, risk anything and stay with her forever. If she wanted to live in a mud hut on a Wraith infested planet on the outskirts of the Pegasus Galaxy, or any other galaxy, he would do it. He had feared her wanting another man, but in truth he knew he wanted no other woman. And now; he was ruined.
He wanted to hate her for it, hate her for being everything he wanted in a woman and that this was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and suspected he would never experience again. So he moved deeper, felt more, absorbed more of every detail of her. She gasped again, arching up under him and he slid his hands down and under her, watching the shadows slipping over her curves. Her voice echoes out, a sound so elementally female that he can only grunt a reply of pleasure as she tightens around him. He feels her body begging of him and he can do nothing but give her what she wants. And then it's his turn, his body forcing him to speed up, everything spinning out of control. There is only her body and his, her hands caressing his neck, her dark eyes meeting his light. She stares up at him and he looks into her, sees her love and passion. She reaches up and pulls him down to her, and he presses his flat chest to her curved one. Softness against his hard muscle and bone. She sighs into his ear and her arms and legs surround him. He closes his eyes, now completely lost. She owns him in everyway and he so willingly gives it all to her.
His release explodes into finality and he empties himself into her, surrenders to what he feels, what he wants. She cries out in pleasure, sounding so thoroughly satisfied that his pleasure continues far past what he's experienced before. His body gives more than ever before, his heart broken, his mind blackening out for a moment and then comes peace.
Shocked stillness fills his mind as his head slowly clears, their breathing all that he can hear over the rapid beating of his heart. And he knows he had been completely wrong. He had seen one or the other; together or separate, pain or gain. Good or bad. Instead in the middle of all those black and white dichotomies they had met in the silver between. Moving and dancing in the moonlight towards a discovery that he should have seen coming.
Love after all is the most painful thing to feel and he knows he is now in for a lifetime of hurt.
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END