Title: Blue For
Really Good Sex
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Character/Pairing: Sam/Other (Male)
Warnings: Sex but nothing graphic.
Prompt Number: #30 Rose (fic101)
He followed her into the house and straight through to her kitchen. She didn't turn to make sure he was behind her, she had heard his car pull up and had opened the door with a smile but not a word. He put the bottle of wine onto her kitchen counter and the three limp red roses too. She placed two glasses on the counter and handed him the corkscrew. He was already waiting to take it, hand out, their fingers brushing, a light touch of skin before he opened the wine.
Same old, same old.
Except the roses.
"You might need to put them in water." He said, seeing her eyes drift to the flowers.
"What are they for?" He shrugged. She knew it wasn't an anniversary, he couldn't quite remember himself the exact date they had started this arrangement, or the date they had first done anything, it was sometime in August. Roses, weren't them, but he had seen them and brought them anyway.
"Everyone seems to think I've got this big crush on you."
"Playing to their misconceptions" There was a quiet pop as he pulled the cork out of the bottle with ease, a strength Sam hadn't expected, which was ridiculous as the man was in the Air Force. He poured out a glass each for them. "Not sure about the red though."
"I wasn't sure what colour you bought for your fuck buddy."
"Red for love, yellow for friendship."
"Blue for really good sex?" Sam laughed and thanked him as he handed her one of the glasses of wine. The sex was good between them, the roses was just the last three from the market that he had rescued. Maybe he was thanking her for it all, but then, he figured the screaming was a good indication that she was grateful too.
It was just sex between them. A chance meeting at a bar had led to drunken sex in his car. Really good drunken sex. A year later and they were still having sex, really good sex, though she had to admit she'd discovered a wicked sense of humour under the hot but skinny body and a creativity she really appreciated.
He always bought the wine, they always had sex in her house, in her bed. Twice on her sofa and once against the very counter they were stood by now, drinking wine. He had recently started bringing a few things with him. Toys. She had started to use some of her own.
They didn't talk.
Aside from the small talk they engaged in while drinking wine, the little jokes they shared about drinking, the weather, the roses tonight, they didn't talk. Everything else faded into silence as they sipped their wine and waited for the other to make the first move. Sometimes him, sometimes her. Even when he had come around and found her crying, even when he had turned up drunk out of his skull (but to her amazement still able to perform. Just.), they hadn't spoken about why.
The sex was good regardless of words.
She smiled at him, watching his hands wrapped around the glass, thinking about those hands elsewhere. Thinking about those fingers inside her.
"What have you got for me tonight Lt?" She asked, draining her wine glass. He smiled and shrugged again. He did that a lot.
"Just me I'm afraid."
"That's just fine." Finishing his wine, Graham Simmons smiled and realised some of the misconceptions were still true. He still did have a bit of a crush on her but it didn't matter, as she put her glass down and turned towards the door, the only place their relationship was going was to her bed.