Title: Science Experiment
Rating: R/Adult/E
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Jonas Quinn
Summary: He hadn’t wanted Sam to tie him up at first.
Notes: 1779 words. From an old kink meme prompt. Part of my Sam pairings project.
He hadn’t wanted Sam to tie him up at first.
It hadn’t seemed like something he would enjoy; he was a pretty easy-going guy and pretty vanilla, according to Sam (and according to his research). However, she was really persuasive, and well, Jonas, Jonas liked sex. Especially sex with Sam.
So now he was naked, handcuffed to her bed, and just waiting.
And really, really turned on.
He found Earth interesting, with its different ways of viewing relationships and sex, as well as how some people were more reserved than others. How some people were more open in private than in public. How people’s personalities were the same no matter what they were doing.
How Sam has a laser focus when it comes to science and also when it comes to sex.
Not that you would know it by the lazy way she was teasing him, but he’d experienced it enough these past few weeks, he knew eventually she would switch, intent on her pleasure (and in turn his). Plus, she had very strict rules about the where and the when they had sex, which made him feel even more like a science experiment, but for some reason, he really didn’t mind that much.
Probably because she cared about, cared for him and showed it.
But then, he’d also been witness to her science and, well, she kinda tackled it the same way, and he wonders if she’s like this with all her relationships, or if it’s just him.
He’s not sure which he’d prefer.
“You okay?” she asks, running a hand up his shin to his thigh and back down to his ankle.
“Yeah,” he says, hating the slightly high tone his voice makes, and she smiles.
“Relax.”
“Definitely cannot relax right now,” he tells her, thrusting his hips up a little to emphasise his, ah, point. She laughs at him – definitely at him – and bends down to drop a kiss to his thigh, way too low for his liking. She’s still dressed, having efficiently stripped him and tied him down, and she finally stands and starts to undress. For some reason, watching her drop bits of her clothing to the floor, revealing her body slowly, and not being able to touch is both arousing and annoying. He knows what she looks like naked; he’s seen her, enjoyed it, but not being able to touch is torture.
“Sam,” he whines.
“Patience,” she tells him, dropping her underwear and moving to straddle his thighs. He’s embarrassed by how turned on he is and the way he bucks up at the simple feel of her sitting on his thighs. She’s not even doing anything, and he tugs at the handcuffs instinctively, wanting to touch her.
“What’s your safe word?” she asks.
“Naquadria,” he manages to get out, and he knows he should probably have picked a better one, but now he’s used it a couple of times, it’s staying with him. At least it’s memorable. Despite knowing what it is, Sam still chuckles, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. It’s not nearly enough, but he kisses back anyway, trying to draw her in, draw her down.
She pulls back then, starts dotting kisses over his jaw, down his neck, across his chest. She plays with one nipple, swirling her tongue around it, then nips on the other; both sensations have him crying out. She chases the noise, testing the different sensations, listening carefully to the way he moans, watching the way he shudders.
She’s still above the waistline, and he’s a wreck already.
She presses a delicate kiss to his hips, both sides, looking up at him under her lashes with that evil little grin she has that he can only describe as wicked. Definitely wicked.
“How are you doing?” she asks in the most casual tone he has ever heard come from her mouth.
“Good?” he says, and she laughs and, without warning, bends and takes his erection into her mouth. He bucks up into the warmth of her, and she pulls away.
“Stay still,” she warns, and he manages to hold still the second time she takes him into her mouth. He really wants to touch, wants to hold on to something, Sam preferably, but the way she has handcuffed him to her bed stops him from even grabbing hold of the headboard. His hands simply hang limply, and he tries his best to keep still as she takes him deeper, swirling her tongue around him.
Then she starts to suck.
“Sam!” he yells, and she pulls back for a moment.
“Don’t come,” she commands before diving back in, and he manages not to buck up again, but he can’t keep still. As she sucks on his erection, moving up and down, he can’t keep his hips completely still. He thrusts slightly into the tight warmth of her mouth, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she reaches up to play with his balls, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to listen to her other command either. It’s so good, too good, the feel of her, the way the handcuffs dig into his wrists and the rhythm of her head as it bobs up and down. He loves the look of her like this, blonde hair in his lap, mouth full of him, and he groans and thrusts a little harder.
“Sam!” he moans as she pulls back and looks at him. Her lips are all red and swollen, and she looks amazing, and he really wants to touch. He’s never normally this tactile.
“Close?” she asks, running a finger over his cock. He shudders and groans, then nods.
“Good.”
It’s not good, he thinks, because she’s definitely not going to give him what he wants. Instead, she straddles his thighs again, too far away from his aching cock and runs a hand down her body.
“Sam, please,” he says. “Let me.”
Sam shakes her head and dips her fingers between her legs, letting out a little sigh as she does so. If he thought it was torture before, this is definitely worse. He watches her face for a minute, her hand moving in the periphery of his vision until he gives in and watches as she plays with herself, one hand tweaking a nipple and the other between her legs. He can see her fingers moving on her clit, watches the way she does so, committing it all to memory.
“Oh God,” Sam chokes out, sliding her fingers lower. She spreads her legs, and he gets a better view of her pressing two fingers into her body and out again, before going back to her clit.
He’s never watched her do this before, not to completion, she’s played with herself in passing, in his presence as part of their foreplay (he loves all the words humans have for different bits of sex), but never seen her orgasm on her own fingers. He’s enjoying watching the entire process, watching every step as she builds herself higher and higher.
“Jonas,” she breathes out, and he recognises the way she says it; she’s close.
“I could help,” he says, voice tight. At some point, he realises he’s been thrusting his hips up in time with the movement of her hand between her legs, and she’s risen up to keep her balance and not fall. Falling isn’t sexy, she’d told him once, but had refused to tell him the story that went with the lesson. She trusts him, but in many ways doesn’t trust him enough.
“I’m good, thanks,” she says, and he laughs because she really is, and then she’s moving, grabbing him and sinking down onto him with a moan. It’s all so sudden, he reacts on instinct and pleasure alone, pulling at the restraints and thrusting up into her.
Sam comes with a cry, and he feels it, feels her pulsing around him. She collapses forward, hands on his chest, and he takes over – as much as he can anyway – as she shakes on top of him. He plants his feet flat on the bed and thrusts up into the heat of her, wishing he’d taken up her offer of running more often.
He comes way too quickly, or maybe not; he’s not so sure. Sam is playing with her clit again and smiling at him, all flushed and happy. He can feel her body reacting, even if he can’t do anything except thrust up into her. She moves with him, and for the longest time, he feels content with just moving, just this, because he always is, always loves the feel of her. Loves it when she’s on top. And she knows it.
Then she leans down and kisses him, hard and hot.
It’s unexpected; his orgasm is fierce. He yells out something, her name, something in Kelownan he knows he’ll probably have to translate for her later (she will insist), and then he’s collapsing back into the bed, high and happy too.
He’s still shaking when Sam is removing the handcuffs and massaging his aching wrists. His arms are locked in place until he pulls at them, pulls them down onto the bed.
“I have some arnica,” she says, kissing him again and getting up from the bed. She pulls on a t-shirt and her underwear and pads out of the room. She is as focused as ever, and he listens to her moving around before coming back into her bedroom with some supplies.
“How are your shoulders?” she asks.
“I have no idea,” he says, feeling a little loopy. “I think you broke me.”
She laughs at that and starts rubbing some liquid onto his right wrist.
“Can we do that again?” he asks, “I mean, not right now, of course, but sometime.”
Sam smiles at him, switching to the left wrist. He aches a lot, but it was definitely worth it. She was right in her hypothesis, he did enjoy it.
“We can do it again sometime,” she says.
When she’s done, she puts her things away and climbs into bed with him, pulling the covers up over them both. He wants to put his arms around her, but his shoulders still feel a little frozen, and somehow she guesses, moving to drape one arm over her. He burrows his hand under the t-shirt, enjoying the feel of her soft skin for the first time tonight.
“Can I tie you up next time?” he asks, wondering if it’s stupid to even ask, but doing so anyway. It would be fun to try he thinks. She chuckles in response.
“I’ll think about it,” she says. “Go to sleep.”
“Yes, Major.”