Disclaimer: not mine.
Pairing: Sam Carter/Evan Lorne (his name is Evan, right? I haven't halucinated that)
Set/Spoilers: Episode insert for "The Road Not Taken" (season 10)
Rating: R? NC17? I don't know, there's porn in there. You tell me.
Notes: This would be why there is no SFF review yet.

Days Come and Go by ALC Punk!

The storage room really isn't supposed to be used for serious conferences, but Sam Carter had looked like she needed a break. So, Evan Lorne had led her there. He'd warned her that the security detail would probably now spread a rumor they were having sex, and she'd looked amused.

An amusement which drops ten seconds after the door closes. Facing him, almost taller than he was, with her black heeled boots on and a clingy skirt, she doesn't look like an Air Force Colonel. She looks like a woman faced with something she never wanted to consider.

"They're not going to let me go," her voice isn't exactly desolate, but the look in her eyes is bleak.

Evan knows that look, that tone of voice. His Sam (dead, gone, blown to shreds) sometimes sounded like that. He tries to say something that will make it better. He knows it won't help. "Look, they'll change their minds. Just give it time."

"Yeah. Time." Time she doesn't have, her eyes say.

It's instinct that makes him forget, for a moment. He reaches out and brushes her hair back from her face, "Sam. You can't give up, ok?"

She looks at him, not flinching back from his touch, simply letting it happen. Then she whispers, "I know."

Lorne doesn't quite expect how quick she is. She tastes, absurdly, like toothpaste and coffee, and her lips are familiar, but the feeling behind them is not. His hand touches her cheek as he pulls back. "Sam--Colonel, I don't want you to get the wrong impression, but--"

"I'm not." She looks at him steadily, "I may not make it back to my own universe. I may be stuck here forever. And you..." Her eyes look dark, "Were you sleeping together, or did she continue to tell you breaking regulations wasn't worth it? You see, I know myself. Or at least, I think I do."

"We--" He stops, because is voice is stupidly hoarse, and he's not that emotional about this, is he? He clears his throat, "We'd agreed it couldn't go further. Not while we were both on the front lines."

"The front lines aren't ever going away."

And she's right. He doesn't let himself think it, but she's right. "Sam, look, it's--"

"Shut up," she suggests.

So he shuts up. This time, her kiss is almost desperate. Both of his hands cup her face, and when she tilts her head sideways and sighs a little, he can't keep them from sliding down, from pushing her jacket off her shoulders and feeling the warm skin through her shirt.

It's awkward. Her hands tangle in his uniform tunic, and she curses softly when he moves without warning and her feet tangle.

Evan has a brief impression of losing his balance and then she's shoving him back. He impacts against the wall and stares at her, panting a little. "Sam, this isn't exactly what I'd had in mind when I brought you in here."

"Maybe not," her head ducks, chin tucking down in a way that breaks his heart. Her lips slip into a cute little smirk. One he only saw a few times. "But this storage closet is used for the same purpose in my world. After all," her eyes are smirking at him, "who do you think it is that keeps conveniently breaking the cameras in here?"

That gives him pause, but he's already beginning to grin when she kisses him again.

She's almost too tall, but he finds when they turn and her hands tug at his belt that it works. Especially when he drags her leg up against his hip and she presses against him. Through their clothing he can feel her heat. A soft sound escapes her as she grinds against him.

More, he thinks, brain scattering.

Rocking against him, eyes closed, head back, he thinks she's gorgeous. His brain is trying not to work, but he knows that if she keeps doing that, he's going to lose it. "Sam." He stops her, hands on her hips.

"Yeah?" Her eyes are dark as she looks at him, lips swollen from kisses. Her tongue slides out, glides along the bottom one.

He swallows, "Ah, if you want to continue this, I don't have anything for protection." And while he knows he's clean, and she was, he's still a gentleman. As much as he can be with his hand on her hip, the naked skin under his palm making him itch.

"If this is like my universe..." she pushes him away, letting her leg drop and moves to poke at one of the shelves. Her skirt isn't straight, but she doesn't seem to care as she turns, foil-wrapped package in hand. "Life is predictable, sometimes."

"And sometimes, it isn't." It's a lame thing to say.

She chuckles and glides back over.

Pressing her against the wall, he gets lost in her kiss again, letting her deal with the necessities. Of course, it doesn't help that his brain shuts down when her hand closes on him. He's hard, and the slow unrolling of the condom almost undoes his control. Then she's hooking her leg up around his hip, guiding him forward, panties pulled to the side.

They both gasp when he slides against her. Almost right.

Second attempt, and he's not sure which of them figures it out, but she moans as he thrusts, slipping deep, and then deeper.

His hand flattens against the wall next to her shoulder as he grasps for leverage. Her mouth moves to his neck. Between the two of them it's a desperate balancing act. He briefly wonders what she'd look like naked except for those damned boots, and his brain goes completely.

Nothing but movement, then, and he's soaked in sweat like he's run for the 'gate with a horde of jaffa behind him.

She jerks, abruptly, suddenly uncoordinated, and her cries are muffled by his skin.

Evan comes back to Earth for a moment as she goes limp. He continues to move, but slower, until she suddenly twists her hips, arches into him. And then it's his turn to move erratically, his turn to gasp as his body drags him over the edge. He wonders, as her teeth send a spike of pain from his shoulder to his groin, if this is how she would have felt.

Then he banishes the thought as unworthy and concentrates on the Sam who's in his arms. The one who's alive.

"Thank you." The whisper is soft, almost escaping unnoticed under the sound of their combined ragged breaths. Her chest is still heaving as she pants against him. She's almost relaxed, leg slipping down his and boot-heel clicking on the concrete floor beneath it.

"Sam..." He touches her shoulder as she gathers herself and then slips sideways, away from him.

"Later, ok?" The look in her eyes is unreadable now, and her hands are expertly straightening her skirt. She softens a moment, "I'm sorry, I just can't think about this now. I should get back to the lab."

"Hey." He half-smiles, his own hand keeping things from getting messier than they already are. "We'll do lunch, ok?"


When she's gone, he leans his forehead against the wall, and wonders if she planned this. Not that it matters. He's finally had Sam Carter--even if it's the wrong one, and she clearly doesn't want him for the long-term. That's OK. He'll survive.