Watching Sam
by Geonn
Rating: PG
Pairings: Sam/?
Category: Romance
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions,
Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Summary: Sam has a secret admirer.
My momentum begins to slow as I approach the large grey doors that lead to the lab. I know she's there, they told me that's where she was. The doors are standing open, allowing me to pause and look inside. I lean against the door frame, smiling at the blonde woman before me. She's sitting with her back to me, unaware of my presence. She's wearing her green uniform pants, plus the black t-shirt that I think she looks spectacular in.
Her fingers fly effortlessly over the keyboard, dancing in a ballet of words that probably would mean nothing to me... She has a way of using words that few people understand, in fact. The only word that comes to mind when thinking of her is simple and to the point: Extraordinary. I've loved her since the moment she arrived at the command; wanted her since I first laid eyes on her. It took me a while to admit to it, but... there's just something about the wonderful major sitting a few feet away from me.
Something on the computer screen isn't adding up and she sighs, heavily, making small pencil marks on a sheet of paper before her. As she turns back to the computer, she absent-mindedly sticks the pencil between her lips and bites down on it. I smile, remembering all of the times she borrowed writing utensils from me and returned them covered with tooth-marks. She runs a hand through her blonde hair, finally realizing what her mistake is and correcting it.
I want to cheer as she slaps the desk and whispers, "Yes!" but I don't want to give away my position just yet. Quickly, she flips open a notebook and begins to document what she had just learned. Finally done, she closes the notebook and returns her attention to the computer screen. As she reads the glowing white letters on a plane of black - words she just wrote herself - she rubs the back of her neck and rolls her shoulders.
My breathing increases... this is the moment. I step forward and approach quietly, gently pulling her hands away. She gasps, looking up at me. When she sees my face, she smiles and returns her attention to the computer. "What're you doing here?"
"You looked like you could use a hand," I say. "Or maybe two." I begin to slowly rub circles on her upper back, gently kneading the soft flesh of her shoulders. The thin material of her shirt is no obstacle to me; I can feel the warmth of her skin just micrometers away from my palms. Gently, I massage her aching back, feeling the barrier of her bra under my hands. I bite my lip, wanting nothing more than to spin her chair around and kiss those beautiful lips of hers.
She moans quietly - the moan I've heard only in my dreams - and rolls her head forward. She speaks my name, then quietly whispers, "Oh... a little to the right." I obey her directions, moving to the right as she requested. A quiet "Mmmm," rolls past her lips and she sighs. "Oh, that's really hitting the spot."
I want to ask... want to beg... this beautiful creature to come home with me for the full effect; I want her on my bed, quivering under my touch as I pay homage to each sacred inch of her alabaster skin. But I hold back. It wouldn't be right. There are so many things make it wrong, so many reasons why I shouldn't feel this way that I can't begin to list them.
Instead, I settle for rubbing her skin through a shirt and giving her this minute amount of pleasure at my touch. That makes me smile; I'm giving her joy through my touch...
I hear a low rumble and realize her stomach is protesting. "Your stomach? When was the last time you ate?"
"Um... I was with you. In the commisary."
"Last night?"
She laughs. "No, not last night. It was just--" she looks at her watch and shakes her head. "I guess it *was* last night."
I turn the chair around and pull her to her feet. "You're coming with me. Lunch time, no arguments." Sam rolls her eyes, but moves past me for the door. I follow, catching up and walking beside the angel of my dreams. When we're alone in the elevator, I look at her again. She's watching the numbers as they slowly move towards the commisary level, the gleam in her eye and the occasional swipe of her tongue across her lips betraying her hunger. I watch as she runs her tongue once more over her lips, the glistening tip moving ever-so-quickly in and out of sight, leaving a bright trail of wetness on my Samantha's lips.
The doors slide open and we step into the hallway. Sam is leading the way now, I'm just a passenger on this journey. However, walking behind Sam is not exactly a bad place to be. I smile, forcing my eyes off of the back of the blonde's pants, instead focusing on her swinging arms. How I'd love to feel those arms around me... feel the swell of her breasts against my hands...
I push those thoughts aside as we enter the bustling activity of the commissary. Sam weaves her way through the crowd, pausing every now and then to make sure I'm behind her, and we gather some food from the counter. Food that hasn't already been pillaged by the other 50-odd officers in the room.
Carrying our trays, we finally find a table with two empty seats and drop down. Although I hate sharing Sam with anybody, our table is filled with our closest friends at the base. If I have to share Sam with anyone, I'm glad it's them. I sit across from Sam, pausing to look into her blue eyes. In this moment, together in a room full of people, I feel a connection to the beauty sitting across from me. She flashes me a wicked smile and a wink before she dives into her food. Maybe one day, I promise myself... one day, I'll tell her exactly how I feel.
And then the real fireworks will begin.
End
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