Scratchy Orchestration
By: afg - www.ofnoconsequence.com
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Season Eight's 'Off The Grid' 
Category - Drabbly Scammy angst.  
Note: Written for the GateShip Wednesday Shorts 'Special Edition' challenge

~oOo~

Drooling moonlight oozed through the bedroom window. She was tired but too 
wound up to sleep. It had started off with an attempt at an apology and slipped 
seamlessly into rough kisses and hard bodies sliding , sweat slicked, against each 
other. 

Everything had changed; she was not who she once was and she felt it bone deep. She 
thought she should feel guilty, and felt guilty that she did not. Jack was far away and 
still so ephemeral. This man was here and making her feel something other than 
confused. 

She watched as the soft light played over his body and highlighted the cut of his 
muscles. He appealed to the aesthete in her. Sam thought she should be ashamed of 
being so shallow, but she'd set her hopes on a relationship only to find that it was as 
unachievable as it had been for the last eight years. She'd given up so much; she was 
so fucking tired of being some kind of tragic, lovelorn heroin. She wanted…no, she 
needed someone to make her feel something other than alone in the hours when she 
wasn't being shot at or hit. 

She ran her fingertips along his spine and felt the little hills and valleys of each 
vertebrae. For such a hard man, his skin was delightfully soft.   

"Sam, honey. I've got to get you beaten up more often."

"You really don't want to start this argument again."

"Oh, I don't know. I kinda liked the direction it took."

She gasped as Cam rolled over and pinned her to the bed.

"I don't want to ruin the moment, but what are we doing here?"

Sam sighed and looked up at his earnest face. "We're just marking time, Cam." She 
almost winced at his look of disappointment. "But we can have fun while we do it. 
Can't we?"

She closed her eyes as his lips touched her breast. She felt his stubble scratch her skin. 
It felt really good.

She guessed she had her answer. 

The end