Well, here it is. Part one of the smut. At the end of this, you will probably be asking some questions - worry not, they will be explained in Chapter 5 (which WILL be called Shall I Remove these Shackles, for those who know me on facebook). Basically, I wanted to get down and dirty. I also hope that I've shown a slightly different side to Steve. Meh. Read, review, discard, dislike, whatever you please!

P.S Thanks to those who reviewed, and double thanks to Isolde for nudging me to write and for your helpful hints :D

Stolen Moments

His plan was a particularly convoluted one.

The longer the prisoner remained incarcerated; rotting away in the lifeless Lantean cell, the less confident he was that he could actually pull it off. The plan depended entirely upon the mental connection he had forged with the weakest of his guards: marine Scot Matherson. Matherson's mental barriers had been thinner than the webs icing the walls of a hive ship. The moment he had tripped into the brig, his brain broadcasted every anxiety, every fear and every memory. Steve immediately utilised this feebleness, weaving his own set of influences into the young marine's mind. At first he had considered Matherson his conduit to escape, but these ambitions were dashed when he discovered (in Matherson's mind) the small squadron of guards that patrolled the corridor outside his cell.

He wanted to escape, but he was not suicidal.

The moment Marie had stepped into the brig, her eyes glazed with fear, Steve had started orchestrating his alternative plan. This plan consumed him, drawing his mind from the anxieties of capture, the dull pain of hunger than wracked his body. Every now and again he had toyed with the idea of luring her in merely to suck every iota of life from her waif-like body. This thought was always wiped away. She needed to be preserved. She had better uses, and almost all of these uses included her being naked and willing.

And so it came to this day.

oOoOo

Marie seriously considered not going to the brig that morning. Should Steve successfully provide a situation in which they could consummate their lust, she knew it could not only be detrimental to her career, but also to her life. She knew she should feel guilty for having such licentious thoughts about the alien prisoner. Her research had brought her into contact with many cultures decimated by the Wraith and their brutal feeding patterns. Though his dangerousness attracted her, there was also something about Steve that seemed so dejected. His outward persona was one of confidence, but the more time she spent with him she perceived his anxieties, his fear and most of all his utter hopelessness. It was for this reason that she made her way to the brig.

I have been waiting.

His voice was a calming draught in her mind. The usual assortment of guards milled around. Her breakfast was waiting for her, as it always was. I am not late, Steve.

I thought...

Do not assume, Steve. You are the one behind bars, not me.

A smile crossed his sensual lips. Your defiance is false, you know this as well as I. Why else would you have packed the restraints?

Because whatever you have planned, it no doubt has something to do with us being alone and together in a room. You're lovely, Steve, but your hand is a little on the creepy side.

You will not say that when I show you what it is capable of.

Marie rolled her eyes, but smiled none-the-less. She uttered her usual greetings to the guards. Ford raised an eyebrow. "I think you like spending time with this, thing, a little too much."

"Liking has nothing to do with it Aiden. It's all for work."

Get them to leave. There was something akin to desperation in Steve's mental probe now. Marie bit her lip.

How?

The Wraith sneered at her through the bars. "Back again?"

"As always, Steve." Where are you going with this?

"I may tell you something useful today, if you are lucky. However-"

You've got to be kidding me? You really believe they'll buy that?

"-I only wish to speak with you. Your friends," his long, sharp nailed hand gestured to the guards, "will have to leave."

"Not a chance," Ford snapped.

Marie frowned. "Is there any chance of him escaping the cell?"

The Lieutenant shifted awkwardly, "well... no. But-"

"Major Sheppard wants me to get information out of him. If this is the only way I can do so, why don't we try it?"

"Major Sheppard tries this every day," Ford replied his voice still laced with doubt. "The Wraith never gives up."

"Woman's touch," Marie shrugged, trying to give him an innocent smile.

Ford appeared to be thinking about this, his handsome face creased with anxiety. "Five minutes, that's all. If anything dodgy goes on, call out, we'll be straight in." The Lieutenant fished a small handgun from its holster at his side. "In case anything happens. You know how to use one of these, right?"

"Of course," Marie lied.

The guards slipped from the room, Ford shooting Steve a cautionary glance before the door fell shut. The Wraith turned his gaze from the door, a smile curling his lips as he locked her in his predatory gaze. "At last we are alone, Marie Cromwell."

And then the lights went out...

oOoOo

"Steve, what the hell?"

The young historian stumbled in the dark, sending the small table with her breakfast flying. She swore loudly, glad that she had the initiative to wolf down a banana in the mess hall before arriving. It was only when she felt long fingers grasp her shoulder that she stopped her mindless fumbling.

"How'd you get out of the cell?"

His lips brushed her ear. "The force field is no longer functioning. I merely stuck my hand through the bar and typed in the code." With kind force, he turned her, pushing her against the nearest wall. With the failure of her eyesight, her other senses came into play. In person, his addictive alien scent of spices and leather was stronger. There was a slightly floral tint to his hair, which to touch was like silk. His lips crashed upon hers, sucking the breath from her lungs. Her own lips melted, her tongue tentatively running across his dangerous boundary of sharp teeth.

"How did you get the code?" she murmured, as his soft lips ran across her jaw, teeth grazing the soft flesh of her neck.

"Matherson."

"Scot told you?"

Her lover hissed. "Not exactly. Must you insist on talking?"

Sorry.

A low animalistic growl was the only response she received. His lips returned to hers, as though attempting to hinder any further attempts to talk. Of this she had no intention, her own fingers stripping his long coat from his shoulders. The rest of their clothes followed in a rip of passion, pants disregarded in puddles on the floor, underwear torn to shreds by relentless fingernails. She could not help but run explorative fingers down the line of ridges that defined his spine, ridges that seemed so natural to her despite their alien origin.

His body was deliciously hard against hers, his arousal pressing into her lower stomach. When she reached for it this time, the Wraith did not draw away. Sharp teeth dug into her shoulder, as her fingers playfully caressed the head of his erection, intrigued by its ridged, alien definition.

The Wraith pushed his prey harder against the wall, dismissing her hands, the head of his impressive specimen poised at the entrance to her core. Inch by inch he submerged himself within her welcoming depths. Though slow at first, his thrusts became harder, faster, animalistic. Steve buried himself in her hair, yearning to be as close to this delicious human as he could. Her scent overwhelmed him, driving him to thrust harder, faster, more hungrily than before. Though their eyes were glazed by darkness, he did not need vision to imagine the soft ruby lips from which the pitiful moans of pleasure were escaping. In his mind he could see the pink, soft flesh of thigh that straddled him as she drew a leg around his waist.

She came before him, dull teeth piercing the flesh below his collar bone. When his lips found hers again, he could taste the metallic taint of his own blood. As climax rocked his body, his arms tightened around her body, as though savouring every last remnant of physical contact he would ever feel.

oOoOo

Steve leaned naked against the cool metal of his cage, eyes unable to follow her movements in the stifling darkness. "You are wasting our time, Worshipper."

"Perhaps if you helped..."

"I would, if I knew what you were looking for."

"First Aid Kit, there has to be one around here."

A low chuckle escaped his lips. "Surely I did not harm you that much."

"All First Aid Kits have candles, Steve. If we're going to make the most of our time, I want to see you." More rustled ensued, before the waif-like historian uttered, "yes, found it!"

As the first candle was lit, it became apparent that the Wraith and his worshipper had made more mess than they anticipated. Not only was her breakfast soggy and cold on the floor, but scraps of clothing had managed to become lodged in the strangest of places. Steve hardly noticed this though, as his eyes fell upon the snow white form of the human female.

In their dream embraces, he had never fully appreciated the way her pale flesh contrasted with the obsidian shine of her locks, the piercing storm-cloud grey of her eyes. A small smile curled her lips as she placed several candles around the now opened cell.

"How long do we have?"

Drawing her close, he whispered in her hair. "Long enough for me to do this..."

Mwa ha ha ha ha!