I dropped a new story onto AO3 this weekend. It's a bit too risqué for me to be comfortable posting all of it on FF, but I thought I'd put the first two chapters here for a tease. If you want to read the entire story, head over there. Release by LexisMom.
I've been on a smut-writing kick (if you couldn't tell). No real plot here, just testing to waters to see how y'all like it. Trying to stretch my own personal writing limits, so I appreciate any feedback.
It wasn't something he liked to do very often. Indulging his rough, controlling side typically allowed dark memories to escape to the surface; memories he'd prefer to keep buried. But her pleasure was worth that small price. She needed this. Needed to be pushed into releasing control, into permitting someone else to press her to her limits and beyond. To feel the rush of freedom that came from surrendering everything. To him.
He had sensed it building throughout the week; had watched her become more tense with each passing day. The brass in Washington were making decisions without understanding the ramifications; ordering the assault on an enemy base that went against her better judgement. While the orders would be followed, all mission decisions were hers; all successes were hers, but so were all failures. And there would be failures because he knew what it was like to obey orders you didn't agree with. He knew the level of accountability that weighed heavily on a person in charge, which is why he understood her desperate need for a different type of release. A release only he could provide.
Neither one of them were into whips or clips or anything that caused pain beyond that of what prolonged pleasure could produce. Both of them had survived torture and neither had any desire to relive those parts of their past. They did, however, share an enjoyment of occasional mild restraint and of surrendering control.
He mentally ticked off the items he'd acquired for tonight. Soft leather cuffs were already fastened to the bed, while a blindfold lay neatly folded on the nightstand. Of course, he'd hidden her favorite toy, biting back a grin as he imagined her reaction. She might not let him restrain her so easily if she knew it would be making an appearance tonight.
Checking his watch, he noted her weekend leave would officially begin in twenty minutes. He'd placed a call to ensure she would not be waylaid, unless the world was ending. Again. In their line of work, there were no guarantees, but being in charge did have its advantages.
Picking up a stick lighter, he walked to the candles scattered around the room. Most of them were meant to create a sensual experience and emitted a light rose scent coupled with a pale romantic glow. The last two, however, were strategically positioned by the bed. He'd light those last, ensuring the body wax would be warm and pleasurable.
By the time he had finished setting up and changed into the outfit he knew was her favorite, he could just hear the motorcycle pulling into the driveway. Walking to the living room, he flicked off the lights, stepped into the shadows, and waited.
Sam grumbled to herself as she unlocked the door and entered the dark house. This was the first long weekend she'd been able get off work in almost six months. For the past week, she'd reminded Jack almost every day to arrange his schedule to coincide with hers so they'd able to spend time together. Judging by the lack of activity in the house, he'd obviously forgotten.
The image of him still sitting in his office, neck deep in paperwork, flittered through her mind, followed by a flash of annoyance. Then came the guilt. She knew the amount of pressure he was under; being the man wasn't exactly easy, especially with all the ineptness around him. She alone knew how much he struggled to deal with the egos and the politics, knew how much he juggled on a daily basis. Despite knowing all of this, she was still beginning to feel a bit neglected. Her own husband seemed oblivious to her struggles. The man who was trained to see everything had no clue how much his wife wanted to be with him right now.
Breathing a deep sigh of disappointment, she tossed her helmet onto the couch and turned the deadbolt. Tears pricked her eyes, but she fought against them. She would not cry. She would stay in control.
Releasing a weary breath, she admitted to herself that it had been one helluva week where nothing she touched seemed to turn out right. She'd been opposed to the idiotic strike on the enemy base from the very beginning, yet she had still managed to pull off a nearly impossible victory. To make matters worse, the intel the IOA had used to propose the attack had been sketchy at best, and despite her ability to pull their collective asses out of a situation she adamantly advised against in the first place, the suits in Washington still found a way to read her the riot act. Funny how easily the schmucks shifted blame for their mistakes.
The one saving grace had been that Jack wasn't there to watch her lose her shit on the acting IOA Director. Then again, Jack probably would have cheered her on as she'd torn into the shrub for putting her people in danger needlessly.
Crossing to the kitchen, Sam was so consumed by her worries that she failed to notice the dark silhouette on the far side of the room.
"Tsk, tsk tsk," Jack clicked his tongue, stepping out of the shadows. "I thought I taught you to be more aware of your surroundings," his deep voice dripped with seductive disappointment.
"Jack!?" She whirled around, eyes wide. He wore his original SG1 BDUs complete with his signature ball cap. Though he'd been riding a desk for the past few years, the tight-fitting black t-shirt still clung to his body in a way that made her mouth water.
His face was guarded, a mask of serious determination, eyes snapping with barely restrained lust. This wasn't General Jack O'Neill, leader of Homeworld Command, her husband and partner. No, this was the Colonel. This man demanded nothing less than her complete surrender.
Sam's body reacted immediately to her Colonel and what his presence signified. She swallowed hard, her eyes slipping close at memory of the last time he claimed her body. It took every ounce of her willpower to refrain from squirming in anticipation.
Sam had always been intrigued by the idea of submitting to a lover. She'd harbored a secret fantasy for years, but trusting someone with that level of control was terrifying. Until Jack. Still, it had taken her more than a year of marriage before she'd gathered the courage to whisper what she wanted into his ear. That was the first night she'd met the Colonel.
"That's, Sir, to you," Jack replied, taking a step closer to her. His eyes searched her face and she knew he was watching for any sign of resistance. Like she could ever resist him.
"Yes, Sir," she purred with a small smile, letting him know she was on board with his game.
He cracked a brief cocky grin at her quick acquiescence, but then the Colonel returned and his eyes darkened once more.
"Tonight is about your complete surrender, Carter," he began a slow walk around her. "You are to do exactly what I say, when I say it."
Sam kept her eyes straight ahead, resisting the urge to press her thighs together to relieve the building ache. She desperately needed his touch, but knew better than to ask. Begging was against his rules.
"You will go take the shower I know you want," he said, stopping behind her, his breath tickling the back of her neck before he finished circling her.
With nimble fingers, he began unbuttoning her shirt, slowly pushing the material wide to reveal her bra-clad chest. "Once you are done, leave it all behind. Your mind, body, and soul belong to me tonight. You will think about nothing else except this," his fingertips traced the edges of the satiny fabric, causing her quick intake of breath. "I'll be waiting," he finished, trailing one finger between her breasts and down to her navel before stepping back to let her pass.