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Title: That Which Dwells Within Us
Author: Rina ([ profile] seariderfalcon)
Rating: MA
Pairing: Sam/Tory
Spoilers: Crossroads I & II
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica and its characters are property of Universal Studios and Ron D. Moore. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit from writing or sharing this.
Summary: It's just two lonely people and a convenient frak, nothing more, so she shouldn't be experiencing any misplaced guilt.
Author's Notes: Written for [ profile] bsg_pornbattle using the prompt sense memory.

Something nags at Tory's conscience as Sam presses her against the hatch, his lips and tongue meeting hers in a hungry kiss. It's an odd sense, one that seems to be trying to tell her that perhaps she shouldn't be doing this, at least not with him. Especially not him. It feels a lot like guilt, like there's someone else in the picture she should be considering, someone who would be very upset by their actions, like this encounter with him should be forbidden.

That seems rather absurd to her.

As Sam pulls away from her to tug off his shirt and then hers, she catches a glimpse of the tattooed wing on his arm before he reaches behind her to unhook her bra.

Kara Thrace. Of course, she thinks with an inward roll of her eyes.

This isn't cheating; his wife is dead, and he's clearly trying to move on or at least forget for a little while. It's just two lonely people and a convenient frak, nothing more, so she shouldn't be experiencing any misplaced guilt.

Hitching a leg around one of his to pull him closer still, Tory tells herself to put it out of her mind. It's really not a difficult task as she grinds against his erection and his hands skim across the sensitive skin above the waistband of her pants then upward to cup and knead at her breasts. She doesn't think of anything but the electric ripples of desire waving through her, not until the feel of him all over her leaves her arching her back and panting and squirming with a need for something a little more fulfilling.

She shoves him away with a nod toward his bunk as she kicks off her shoes and slips out of the rest of her clothes. He's quick to strip out of his own, then he reaches out a hand to her and beckons her to join him as as he climbs into his rack. She crawls across his body and straddles his legs. With a firm grasp, she strokes along his length, causing him to moan and writhe, and then she moaning along with him when she can't resist pressing and sliding her wet heat against his increasingly hardened cock. She only does this a few times before he can't wait any longer and tugs at her hips to guide himself into her. It's a relief. She doesn't want to wait either.

Their joining is hard and fast. He's pressing his thumb into her clit and kissing her anywhere that he can reach from his position, and she can feel the fog she's been living in for the past few days start to lift. She decides he's really good at this.

Just as Tory starts to feel the promise of an orgasm approaching, that guilty notion creeps up on her again. This time she knows it's not some misplaced guilt over Sam's deceased spouse that's bothering her. There's the spectre of someone she's sure she knows right at the edge of her memory, not unlike the song that's been haunting her.

There's suddenly an urgent need inside of her to figure out who it is.

She closes her eyes and rides Sam a little slower, reflexively rolling her hips as she tries to focus and grasp at the hazy image in her mind. For one brief moment it starts to become all clear: a familiar face, a different world, another lifetime. His name is right at the tip of her tongue...

...and then Sam's loud groan and the sudden pressure of his hands gripping onto her waist yanks her back into her own time. The last lingering threads of the vision snap apart with a change in angle of her body as he thrusts into her in pursuit of his own release. Her orgasm rips through her so forcefully that she's too overwhelmed and disoriented to recall anything but the sensations of her climax coursing through her.


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