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25 September 2005 @ 08:36 am
Fic: Hiding by Starlight, Part 2  
Back to Part 1

About an hour later, she looked up and found him there, standing on the edge of the firelight, watching her. She started, having no idea how long he'd been standing there.

He said, "I apologize. I should not have shouted at you. This planet has me very on edge." He came nearer and sat down on the log.

"That's okay," she said. "I have a question. In our stories, the hungrier a vampire is, the more uncontrolled they are. Is that true?"

He nodded and bowed his head, looking ashamed. "Yes."

She dampened her lips, "Then isn't it true that the longer you wait, the less control you'll have? Won't it be more dangerous to wait? For me?"

"Malek can take control," he said, but he was not very convincing. Not when she remembered what he said about the way a Furling could fight off a symbiote.

"We have no idea when the Prometheus is coming. We know the Tok'ra can't get here for ten days. Can you last that long?"

"No," he admitted. "You will have to kill us, before then. If there were others of my kind, they could help me, but the feeding instinct is very strong. Eventually Malek and I won't be able to control it alone. And I would rather be dead than be like that." There was a silent 'again' at the end of his words. She wondered what that would be like, to be a civilized being who might descend into what sounded like feral madness.

She couldn't let that happen, and not only because she didn't want to kill him or have him kill her in a fit of inhuman bloodlust. He was a friend and an ally, not to mention a valuable source of intelligence on the lost Furlings. It didn't hurt that the lean muscles of his shoulders and arms seemed to lure her gaze, outlined in light and shadow. "Then let's both stay alive. Please, Reigar, I know it's not a perfect solution, but I don't see any other way. I can't let you die, and this seems less risky than waiting."

He looked into her eyes for a long, unblinking moment and she had the uneasy suspicion he was reading her mind. Then his lips twitched into a reluctant, rueful smile, "No one has so logically argued herself into this, before. You astonish me, Sam."

She smiled a little and shrugged, but felt pleased by the compliment. A silence fell which he seemed not to want to break, and she finally chuckled and teased, "So, what next? I don't see any fangs."

"No," he answered. "My parents pulled them when I was young. There were too visible."

She frowned at him, wondering if he was joking, but his face was serious and she realized he meant it. It made sense too, that he wouldn't want an outward indicator of being a Furling. "Then, um, if no fangs are involved, what do we do?"

The answer turned out to be just as she had suggested before. He used his small knife and with surgical precision cut a slit in her inner elbow. His knife was so sharp it barely hurt, but he said, "I am sorry. I could take the pain away, but that would connect us more strongly than we want."

"It's okay," she reassured him, "It hardly --" She stopped, as his fingers tightened on her wrist. His other hand held the aluminum cup beneath her arm to catch the thin trickle of blood.

But it was his face that caught her. He was staring at the blood with burning intensity, and as she watched, the brown drained out of his irises leaving only that eerie, alien yellow. She couldn't look away. She had never seen such a look of pure want.

Her heart began pounding and her stomach tied into knots as she realized that this was far more dangerous than she had understood.

His lips parted and he inhaled a sharp breath. The sound settled right in the pit of her stomach, adding to the mix of anxiety.

"Stop. Enough. That's enough," he said hoarsely. He closed his eyes, but didn't let go of her arm.

She looked into the cup and frowned. "It's only a tablespoon, or so. That can't be enough."

"Sam --" her name was a ragged protest. He swallowed hard. "I want -- I can't fight you, too."

He wanted to drink from her, she realized. But he was afraid of it too. Sam had the impression that he was being overly cautious, too many years of being too careful. And she just really wanted to find out what it was like.

"Then don't fight," she suggested, and pulled her arm free. She put it near his face and whispered, "Take what you need."

He shook his head in denial, but didn't move except to tremble. "This isn't you. I'm influencing you --"

Impatient with his resistance, she put her dripping arm to his lips. "Don't waste any."

He licked her arm delicately, and the touch made her shiver. But that was nothing compared to the jolt that went through her when he put his lips on her skin.

She felt it in the pit of her stomach, and every time he sucked at her arm, she clenched deep inside, seething energy between her legs.

He touched nothing but her arm, but the sensual pleasure hummed through her body, rising to an ache. She fumbled her pants open, hand plunging to touch herself. Oh God, so wet, and she was so sensitive the merest brush sent a shock to her toes. She leaned against his solid strength. She rubbed hard at her clit, her inner walls spasming eagerly on nothing, and the tension grew.

He sucked again, pulling all of her resistance out along with her blood. The tight knot turned into an engulfing wave, and she threw her head back into his shoulder. He caught her around the waist so she wouldn't fall.

While the tremors were subsiding and she was remembering herself again, he gave her skin one last lick and lifted his head away from her arm, setting it back in her lap gently. She realized she still had her other hand between her legs and took it out, a little embarrassed.

She had to clear her throat. "Uh, is it always like that?" she asked. Her breathing was still rapid, but settling. But despite whatever blood he'd taken from her, she didn't feel weak or tired at all. The energy of the orgasm was still thrumming in her blood, making her feel that she could jump up and run a marathon.

He smiled at her, looking more at ease than since they'd arrived. He touched her cheek lightly. "Yes."

She shivered. "I can see how it's hard to give up." She'd had one of her better orgasms, and he hadn't even done anything. Imagine if he'd taken from her in the middle of sex. She shuddered again at picturing it, and felt the answering flare in her body.

Trying to get her mind off of it, she asked, "How? Some kind of telepathy?"

Perhaps recognizing her need to distance herself from what had just happened, or because he needed it too, he answered, with a more clinical tone, "Somewhat. We call it the feeding reflex. It immobilizes the ..." he hesitated and continued, "prey long enough to feed without a struggle. In humans it also releases endorphins and sex hormones as a side effect."

"It, uh, certainly did that," she answered, with a forced laugh, and joked weakly. "Well, I hope it was good for you too."

"Oh yes," he reassured her. "I am content. Thank you. You should eat and drink some water." He pulled his arm away, letting her sit up on her own, while he rooted around in her pack.

"I feel all right," she protested, but she took the canteen and chocolate bar when he handed them to her.

Just the touch of his hand on hers made her stomach flutter and she had to take a deep breath, reminding herself she was not a schoolgirl with a crush, but a grown woman in the Air Force.

He pulled his hand back and settled beyond the range of easily touching. He held his knees, and the fire light glinted on the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones as he looked up at the night sky.

"What happens now?" she asked, after eating a quarter of the chocolate and re-wrapping it to save for later.

"Nothing," he answered. "Until tomorrow night. And then, if you are still willing, we do it again."

She felt a stab of disappointment at his cool tone. Was that all she was to him? Nothing more than a trip to the grocery store?

Shaking her head sharply, she reminded herself that it was better if they stay detached. They'd have to go their separate ways eventually.

"So you need to feed everyday?" she was proud of the way she didn't stumble over the word.

"No. But it is better to take a little each day rather than more every few days. You recover more quickly that way." His answer seemed even more distant than before, as though he wasn't paying attention to his words at all. She looked more closely. His hands were clutching each other tightly in a white-knuckled grip, and as she watched him, he shut his eyes, face tightening in pain.

"Is something wrong? Are you all right?" she asked, alarmed. Maybe the naquadah in her blood had hurt him or made him sick. God, she should have warned him...

"It's been so long," he murmured hoarsely. "I forgot... I feel it, your life in me." He raised one hand to press against his chest. "And I can feel you over there. It's all so much. Hard to hold back."

"Do you have to?" she asked, wondering if this was another instance of him trying to protect her when he didn't need to. "Hold back I mean? I'm the only one here. I've seen a lot of weird stuff; I promise I won't freak out," she added, wondering if there was some transformation he was trying to prevent. He had said that he couldn't be a wolf or a bat, not that he couldn't change at all.

He nodded once jerkily, and she watched curiously, wondering what was going to happen.

There was little to see. He tensed, and then the golden eyes opened and met hers.

But in a few seconds, the world suddenly became a different place. Her awareness of him heightened, but even more, her vision seemed to shift slightly, the play of light and shadow became more intense, and the green of the plants seemed suddenly brighter, as though she was seeing by sunlight, not starlight. The breeze on her face seemed caressing and carried the new scent of distant flowers.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open as she regarded him with some awe. "You're sharing with me. This is how you sense things."

He nodded once, and he seemed more relaxed. "Furlings are communal empaths. We are meant to share. It's hard to feel so full of life and have to keep it contained. I'm glad you don't mind."

"Mind?" she repeated and laughed in sheer stunned delight, running her hand across the bark of the log behind her. She could feel its texture on her fingertips and was sure, somehow, that there was a colony of small insects inside it, bustling around. "It's amazing."

"It will fade," he warned her. "But probably not until morning."

She didn't want to sleep and wake up to find this new layer of the world stripped away. Actually, she didn't want to sleep at all.

Her gaze collided with his again, and for the first time, his eyes didn't seem strange at all. Her hands lifted to touch him, to feel him with this new awareness buzzing across her whole body.

She couldn't look away, and her lips parted, but no sound emerged.

"Sam," he started, probably in caution, but she didn't listen.

She touched his face. He was so soft and warm. As with the log, she could feel the life within him, but much stronger, a current flowing inside him. She explored with her fingers, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, while he remained still and let her. Her fingertips moved up again, to frame his face in both hands and hold him still while she leaned in for a kiss.

His lips matched hers, meaning it to be gentle, but the touch ran like fire all through her body and she pushed forward, needing more. Her hands slid around his neck to weave through his hair and keep his mouth against hers. The taste was odd at first but that was fleeting, as she was far more interested in the feel of his lips and tongue against her own, and the hot reaches of his mouth.

His hands slid around her waist and beneath her shirt, and she gasped at the touch of his warm hands on her skin, arching her back.

He pulled his lips from hers and kissed her face, trailed by her ear and her neck, lingering where her pulse pounded beneath his touch. Could he smell her blood or taste it through her skin? She shuddered, remembering too many vampire movies. 'It wouldn't be so bad,' she thought, dizzy and needy, imagining sharp teeth and her blood flowing out... His tongue touched her and she shivered, even as the heat gathered in her belly.

She ran her hands across his shoulders and arms, fingers delighting in the sensual pleasure of soft skin and firm muscle. His hand was under her shirt and tank now, sliding up her ribcage and then slowly, ever so slowly, trailed up the underside of her breast, fingers brushing her nipple. She leaned into the touch, with a short moan, wanting him to do it again.

He complied and then quickly pulled her shirts up and over her head, tossing it to the ground somewhere behind her. "You are so beautiful," he murmured

She let him look, pleased and relieved and eager, and then reached to pull his shirt off. "It's only fair," she murmured, even though he wasn't complaining.

Somehow, in her new vision, he seemed paler, nearly glowing an unearthly white in the starlight. But it seemed right on him, and she couldn't stop looking or tear her hands away. He reminded her of some ancient statue, though his flesh was warm and alive.

Then he was pulling her to her bedroll and easing her to her back. Kissing her collarbones and moving her dog tags aside, his lips found her breast, sucking and stroking her nipple with his tongue to find what she liked best. At first he had a hand on her other breast, idly teasing, before caressing with his whole hand, sliding between them and down to open her pants. Her mind felt pulled in two many directions as his lips continued to suck all reason and sense from her, and yet she also wanted to concentrate on how he was pulling down her zipper and inside.

An embarrassing mewling sound came from her and her hips jerked, utterly without conscious intent.

He lifted his head a little, chuckling, and she smacked his shoulder. "Hey!"

But her humor and pretended offense flitted away, when he moved his hand, caressing her across her underwear. It was such a tantalizing touch, light and maddening, not quite anywhere she wanted it, but more than enough to wet the cloth beneath his fingers. She widened her legs to give him more room, and bit her lip, to stop another noise from escaping.

Everything that wasn't the two of them disappeared into a haze of arousal, every touch and breath adding to the heat building between them. His own desire meshed with hers, shared and reflected, until she wondered if she might actually die.

She pulled him inside her, strong and hard, legs wrapped around him and her fingers tight on his shoulders.

She shuddered continuously, every nerve heightened, every muscle in her body tight. Panting in gulps, she pleaded wordlessly for him to push her over the edge. It didn't happen until he froze, deep in her, and his release exploded through her.

It seemed an eternity, liquid fire in every vein of her body, until it began to subside.

Her heart was pounding too fast, she could barely catch her breath, and she was trembling as her body slowly loosened against the ground. He was on top of her, still inside her, his head on her chest, also shaking. She wasn't sure if that overwhelmed feeling was also his emotions, or just her own.

"Holy Hannah," she breathed after a moment. "That was... I can't even think of the words."

"There are none," he murmured into her, showing no indication of moving, which was just fine with her. The sweat was drying on her and she felt cold except where he was touching her.

She lifted one heavy hand to comb her fingers through his hair idly. It was dry, not damp with sweat like hers. His skin was hot under her other hand, but not sweaty there either. Still an alien, she realized and the thought made her chuckle, since it hadn't occurred to her that he wouldn't want what she wanted. But that made her curious. "Why is it that we're all so compatible?" she asked. "Humans, and Furlings, and Ancients, I mean?"

He snorted lightly. "The Ancients. They tampered incessantly -- with us, with you, with the Goa'uld... They remade this entire galaxy in their image. But it has its advantages..." He moved his head so the tip of his tongue touched the end of her very sensitive nipple. She shuddered, the heat spearing through her straight to her throbbing clit and her inner walls which spasmed tightly on him. He jerked and his hand tightened on her shoulder painfully. His movement within was enough to shove her into orgasm again, the wave rushing through her to her toes.

"You're going to kill me," she complained hoarsely, though it was only half-serious. He started to shift as if to move off, but she gripped his shoulders. "No. Don't move. But my God, you barely touch me and I feel it everywhere."

He lifted his head to find her eyes. His own, she noticed, were brown again. "It's strong," he murmured, and freed a hand to touch her cheek gently. "Perhaps because you were so willing the bond is already forming. The closer we are, the harder it will be to separate."

"And we're pretty damn close right now," she observed wryly. With his naked body on hers, there wasn't much closer they could be. His lips twitched into a smile of agreement. "But why do we have to separate at all?" she asked. "You and I could be mates. You could come to Earth, or I could come to the Tok'ra, or both. We could be together."

He lowered his head again to rest on her chest, letting out a soft sigh. "Sam. It is the attachment speaking," he murmured. "As much as I wish it was what you truly wanted, I know better. We can never be together in that way, because of what I am. It always fails."

At first she was offended that he didn't believe her, when she had meant what she said. But the weary resignation in his voice caught her in the chest, and she didn't speak. He didn't believe her because he'd heard the words before too many times.

He kissed her once, in the middle of her chest right above her heart, and raised himself away.

She wanted to say he was wrong, that they could be together. But as the flush of orgasm died away, she wondered if he was right. They were very different, far more different than they looked, and perhaps that difference couldn't be overcome. But she also thought that he wasn't willing to try, and she didn't know how much of that unwillingness was due to old bitterness that had crystallized into a shell, and how much was reasonable.

She watched as he slipped on his tank top and pants, and she couldn't find anything to say.

"I will watch, Sam. You should sleep," he recommended and stepped away from the fire. The shadows swallowed him up, beyond even her heightened vision's ability to track.

She cleaned up, put her clothes back on, and crawled into the bedroll to sleep.

Even as sudden exhaustion claimed her, she had the idea that there was one person who would know the truth. She would talk to Malek in the morning.


A raucous bird woke her up, to find that she had pulled her blanket over her head to shut out the sun. It was mid-morning already.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Malek was sitting on the log, fully dressed again in his Tok'ra uniform. He raised his head and gave her a polite smile of greeting. "Good morning, Colonel Carter."

"'Morning," she answered, embarrassed at the sight of him. Malek had to know what she and Reigar had done last night, whether or not he'd been awake. "I'll be back," she muttered, and went to the use the privy and get herself together. Last night's intensity had faded, and she wondered if she had imagined some of it. It was plainly impossible that she could have seen better or differently than she did right now. Yet the memory of the sex was clear and vivid, and she knew that had been real. She ached in all the right places, that was for sure.

Not that it wasn't still embarrassing when she went back to camp. He was looking at the small notebook she kept in her pack. She cleared her throat. "Did you find the pencil? I have one, if you want to use it."

He held up the book so she could see that a page was already written on. "Reigar found your pencil. I was reading."

"Can I read it?" she asked, but saw as she moved closer that the answer was no. It wasn't written in any alphabet she knew. "Is that Furling?" she asked. Daniel was going to be so excited.

"No," he answered to her disappointment. "It is the language of a world called Esakia, where we met. He often writes to me while I sleep."

"Is he asleep?" she asked. When he nodded, she settled on the other end of the log, and bit her lip before asking, "You know about last night, right? Does he mean it? That it never works out?"

He frowned, and when he spoke, his words were very carefully chosen. "It is not entirely accurate to say 'never', for two relationships lasted for more than twenty years and ended by death. But a relationship is difficult. Reigar has often become the target of resentment, merely because he is not human. Among the Tok'ra he finds more acceptance than among humans, but even there the other hosts are often repulsed by Reigar's needs."

"That seems very judgmental," she said, offended on Reigar's behalf. Malek gave a little shrug, as if to say that it was true but nothing unusual. She took out a protein bar for breakfast and considered while she ate half of it. "So am I a fool for thinking I'm different?" she asked finally, with a wry smile at Malek.

He took her question seriously. "No. You do seem very open-minded and intelligent, and I know he finds you attractive. But you should be aware of the problems too before you start anything. For one, I doubt your father or anyone of the SGC will approve of any relationship."

"I thought Dad liked you guys."

"Liking us is not the same as wishing us to be his daughter's mate," he observed dryly, and she winced. Her dad hadn't liked any of her boyfriends, ever, and she doubted that a vampire was going to score very highly either, even when the vampire was also his friend and fellow Tok'ra.

"But that is not the most serious difficulty," he continued. "Reigar will resist and doubt you, no matter how much of the truth he senses in your emotions. He knows how strong his appeal can be and how forceful the rejection can be when it wears off. But..." he hesitated and leafed through the notebook as though looking for a particular passage, although she suspected he did it just to give himself something to do, since he didn't look at it. "I will tell you that he feels very alone. We have not crossed paths with any other Furling in a century, and he may be the last. He wants other companionship, but is reluctant to accept it, knowing that failure is likely."

It was no more than she had expected from what Reigar has said about the Furlings, but it was sad to think he might be the last of his people. No wonder he hated the Goa'uld. But knowing he was lonely made her even more determined to be with him.

Until Malek threw cold water on that. "You must be cautious," Malek said. "Because he is right to suspect how you feel, and you should too. Do not rush into something which you later find you can't abide."

She nodded her understanding. She would be careful, but she also wasn't going to assume the worst.

The rest of the day, she and Malek tended to camp and she taught him hearts, blackjack and poker with her deck of cards to help the time pass. He proved quite adept at cards, and she was soon eager to get him into a game with Teal'c. Maybe the whole Tok'ra-Jaffa split could be helped by a couple of good card games.

But she was marking time until sundown, and both of them knew it.


Reigar came awake all at once, unlike his usual slow stirring with the fading of the sun.

*Good evening,* Malek greeted fondly.

He returned the greeting, alarmed by the suddenness of his waking until Malek reassured him that there was no threat. He felt strong and alert, but there was no danger, which was a puzzle until the memory of last night burst through his brain. Sam.

His gaze sought her, where she was eating one of her vile smelling pseudo-food pouches. She wasn't afraid of him. She offered herself, heedless of what she was doing. It was brave, but unwise. He should never have accepted.

Malek gave a mental snort of impatience. *As though you had a choice. You may punish yourself with regrets for your actions which hurt people, but not this. Sam made the wise choice and she is willing to accept the consequences.*

Reigar wanted to object that Sam couldn't accept consequences she didn't understand, but stopped himself, because Malek was right. But he saw them starting down the same well-worn path to the inevitable end. The heady first flush of excitement always wore off, as reality set in. Good sex could only compensate so much for his alien-ness, and he understood that. The bitterest part was that he understood their feelings of being used but there was nothing he could do about it.

*There are always options,* Malek reminded him, more gently. *And not many women are like Sam.*

Their gaze slipped from her golden hair down the strong line of her jaw and shoulders, to the soft curve of her breast beneath her black shirt. Her zat'nik'tel was in its holster at her waist, and the large projectile weapon was within easy reach at her side. He had seen her intelligence and her beauty and was beginning to comprehend the warrior as well. His sense of her presence seemed to shine brightly, so that he was sure he could find her from a long distance. No, there were not many women like Sam.

She felt his regard and lifted her gaze to him, smiling. "Reigar awake?" she asked.

Malek answered, "Yes. How did you know?"

"You twitched, and now you're staring at me." But she said the words still smiling. "Hello, Reigar."

They needed no further urging to switch precedence. Malek lowered his head, and Reigar slid back into control of his own body. He flexed his fingers into the fabric of his pants, and lifted his head to look at her. "Good evening, Sam."

"You didn't miss much," she said. "Malek kicked my butt at cards. And I made some more water," she indicated the pot by the fire.

He took the metal cup and dipped out a little of the water. The taste of the chlorine made his nose wrinkle in distaste, but it was better than fighting off alien bacteria and parasites. Between his own vigorous immune system and Malek, there was little that could affect him, but there was no need to take the risk.

She seemed uneasy with his presence, so he asked her neutral questions about the card games that she had taught Malek.

Finally she asked the question that was preying on her mind. "Do you -- are you hungry?"

He shook his head. "Sam, you don't have to --"

"We've been over that," she interrupted forcefully, but lost her confidence as she continued, "I know. And I still want to. I just -- I don't know when or how to offer."

"There is no urgency," he reassured her. "What you gave last night settled the need. I had forgotten how powerful live blood from a willing person can be."

She frowned. "Why should willingness matter at all? Unless it's not just the blood you're taking?"

"No, that is all we take," he said, now frowning too. She had brought up something he hadn't thought much about. "Taking by force from other sentients is repulsive."

Taking by force was repulsive for moral reasons, not practical ones, or so he had learned. He had done it in the past anyway, especially before he and Malek had blended, but the feeding never felt as good or seemed to last as long. His synthetics were supposed to give him all the necessary nutrients, but they were barely adequate for a day or two. It made him wonder whether blood really was the only thing, or there was something else going on.

Luckily Malek was paying attention to their surroundings.

*Reigar!* Malek threw them to the side in a roll, grabbing for his zat.

A very large, extremely smelly thing rushed past him, and he tried to sit up, but Malek had taken over and was trying to get up on one knee. They contested for a heartbeat, both instinctively acting to save their life, then Reigar let go, allowing Malek to fight for them.

There was a heavy thud as the creature landed in the dirt between him and Sam. Malek was up, arm extended, and got a good look at it. It was ugly, with patchy dark brown fur and whiskered snout. But the big forward eyes and bared fangs of a predator turned right toward him.

Sam's zat'nik'tel discharged, lighting the creature with blue electricity. It shuddered but didn't go down, taking two silent steps closer.

Malek fired too. The creature shook its head and its step faltered, giving Reigar some hope that it was dead, but then it gave a shake and stepped forward with a distinct sneer.

*Let me,* Reigar swept Malek aside and surged back into control, reaching out for its mind.

Hunger. Rage. Confusion at the prey's challenge. But mostly hunger, which echoed in a twisted fashion against his own. Yet Reigar was no one's prey, he was a predator, too, even if he kept the predator under control most of the time.

It was going to attack him. He felt the intent and reached again for a tighter hold on it, to stop it. But its hunger was strong and he had to struggle to keep the creature from moving on its instinct.

There was a loud sound, which shocked them both into fear. The smell of blood was thick in his nose and in the back of his throat. The creature was full of pain suddenly, and Reigar couldn't stop sharing that too. It was all through him, phantom agony like being on fire.

*Let go!* Malek pushed at him, breaking the connection.

He was back in his own body, heaving for breath, as the creature collapsed at his feet. He lifted his head to find Sam with her weapon still aimed at the thing. "It's dead," he confirmed.

She lowered the gun with a short laugh. "And here I thought I'd be the one it would go for."

"Thank you." He stood and brushed off his pants. "I'm sorry; I should have known it was close."

She shrugged. "No problem. I'm just glad the P90 managed to stop it, because the zats weren't doing anything." She cast a puzzled frown at the thing. "Maybe we should take it with us when we go and figure out how it did that. I didn't think any animal with a nervous system could throw off a zat blast."

"Unless the Prometheus comes tonight, the carcass is going to be unpleasant," he pointed out, and she made a disgusted face. Now that he was concentrating, he could sense other animals gathering and an insect buzzed past his ear. "In fact, we should move camp away. Scavengers are coming."

She nodded and gathered up their things, as he put out the fire. The rising smell of the carcass was making him feel ill, and he was glad when they were ready to go. He took the pack and the pot of water, so she could have her hands free for the P90. He didn't think there was another creature, but since he'd been so blind to the first, he didn't want to be caught undefended by the bigger and meaner mother of the dead one.

They moved through the trees easily, now familiar with the terrain, and didn't need to talk about where they were going. He listened, trying to keep aware of their surroundings as distant as he could and still walk.

Their new site was more defensible, with a sheer rock face and a large boulder guarding two approaches. He dug the fire pit while she collected some rocks and they both went hunting wood together.

When the fire was blazing comfortably, she sat down on her bedroll with a sigh of relief and put the pot of water nearby to heat it. "Was that thing ugly or am I being a judgmental Tau'ri?" she asked. She patted the blanket and he sat down beside her.

"It was ugly. Which does not make the second invalid," he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him and smiled.

Now that he had a moment to relax, he could feel the ache in his spine, warning him that he should feed. Feeling the creature's own hunger had raised his, as though Sam's sharing from yesterday had burned away in the short-lived battle.

"I thought it was going to hurt you. When the zat didn't work, I froze," she murmured, holding her knees. "It took me a second to remember that my P90 was right there too. You might have been killed."

"It will take more than that thing to kill me, I promise," Reigar said. He grasped her shoulder to coax her to face him. "You didn't freeze. You killed it before it jumped on me. I appreciate that you acted, when my own attempt was not very effective."

Her gaze met his, and she smiled slowly. "Appreciate?" she repeated, arching her brows at him. "How much?"

The air between them became charged and he could taste it as her desire rose. "Very much," he answered, matching her tone, and moved his hand from her shoulder and up her neck, leaning forward.

"What if another creature comes?" Sam whispered, not closing her eyes.

*I can keep watch,* Malek offered, and he passed that on to Sam.

She didn't require much convincing. Their lips touched and Sam pressed into him, her whole body eager and anxious under his hands. Her mouth coaxed and needed, pulling him into closer connection. She clutched at his uniform and found it unsatisfying, because she pulled away, irritable, "Take it off. Too bulky, and I can't feel you."

He stripped off jerkin and shirts, and one shirt was still over his head when her hands found his skin. He barely got it off before she was pushing him onto his back. Her hands were everywhere, and her lips left his to explore his skin too, much as he had done to her yesterday. It felt somewhat odd to him to lay there and let her do as she willed, but it was good too to feel her touch. Fingers pinched his nipples lightly but when she licked one, it went straight to his groin.

"Ah," she murmured in playful delight when she felt him jerk beneath her, "Not quite as stoic or jaded as you pretend, hm?" She kissed slowly across to the other side and he tensed.

"Not at a time like this, no," the last word sounded somewhat strangled when, instead of licking again, as he expected, she bit him.

Again, like lightning, stirring his cock. And her squirming around on top of him was that much more arousing as she moved out of the way of her hands, which were opening his pants.

"Off," she ordered again, taking the sides of his pants and pulling them down. He helped, lifting his hips, and she took them off.

For a moment she just sat on her heels and looked at him, smile tugging at her mouth. He didn't have to look down to know that he was at least half-hard, and he felt a tiny bit self-conscious under her gaze, aware of his inhuman pallor and lack of body hair. But she certainly didn't seem put off, if the lingering gaze and feeling of sexual interest were anything to go by.

When she still didn't speak or move, he gave her an inquiring look. "Do you intend to continue? Or at least take off your clothes too, so I can have something to look at in return?"

"Just thanking the Ancients for making this possible," she quipped and pulled off her shirt in one quick motion. The undergarment followed and he had a brief moment to admire her bare breasts, before she leaned across him again. "I love your skin," she murmured, caressing him all along his flanks on both sides all the way down his thighs. "So soft. And you smell good." She nuzzled, her breath tickling his chest

She started kissing him moving steadily lower down his chest and abdomen, her hands moving idly on his flanks. Her nipples drew random lines down his sides and hips, sometimes lifting away, sometimes pressing strongly, until she was low enough to be between his legs and he didn't feel it anymore.

One hand tentatively brushed his erection and sac and he clenched his hands. "Different," she mused, "I've never been with anyone bare here," she brushed the sac again and he hissed, making her flash a grin and do it again. "But very ... inviting to the touch."

He focused on the sensation of her intimate touch, watching her face, lit with desire and curiosity, even a touch of mischief.

*Good thing I am watching our surroundings, isn't it?* Malek chortled in his mind

Reigar pleaded with him to stop distracting him, and Malek went away, still amused.

Her teasing shifted to his cock, sliding her fingers around, exploring and investigating how he felt. He couldn't watch anymore, tightening his jaw and gazing blindly up at the sky. He couldn't remember the last time someone had played with him like this, without fear and without the taint of coercion from his feeding. But it was so amazingly good and he wanted it to last forever, while worrying that it couldn't actually last much longer.

He was going to complain, but then she seized his cock in one hand, fingers firmly wrapped around his rigid length. "How close are you?" she asked, rubbing once and then again. "Do I have time to take off my pants?"

So tight. "Stop doing that, and I'll last longer," he muttered. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"You wouldn't believe how wet I am," she bent low to whisper in his ear, hand still wrapped around him between their bodies. He shuddered at the naked lust in her voice. Then she was up and away from him again and let go of his erection to fumble her pants open and push them down.

Then she was lowering herself on him. He had to bite his lip as she slid down his length, and he was inside her. She shook her hips to settle herself properly and he gasped as she tightened around him.

"But wait, there's more," she whispered. When he wrenched his eyes open to see what she was talking about, she had his knife in her hand and drew two fingertips across the blade lightly

He could smell the blood immediately and licked his lips, swallowing hard. He couldn't find speech, overwhelmed by the two desires now pulling at him. She held the fingers to his lips and he licked the blood away, before fastening his lips to the cuts and sucking. He felt the reflex grip them both, as she stiffened on top of him and her hand on his chest curled into claws.

Her inner walls clenched and he nearly lost it then, as she gave a breathy cry of need. Her hips moved, drawing him deep, even as he held her fingers in his mouth.

The fire ran through him, from her fingers and his throat and down to where she was grinding into him. He had to thrust back into her depths to keep the energy flowing through her to her fingers. Release came sudden and hard. He nearly bit her but kept hold of himself to open his mouth instead, until it passed enough that he could keep feeding off her.

He reached up to hold her breasts, thumbs rubbing her peaks, as she spasmed on him. She shifted slightly, unconsciously seeking his cock against her pleasure spot. He closed his eyes, concentrating to get that tiny bit harder again. She broke into orgasm with a shudder and mewling gasp, her skin flushing a delicate pink beneath the sweat.

Her fingers slid out of his mouth, and he watched her, feeling smug.

"Oh dear God," she said breathlessly, and fell forward on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her back and held her as her breathing and heart rate settled.

Closing his eyes did nothing to reduce the way she was filling his senses. With her blood in him again, he was attuned to her breathing, to her feeling of contentment and her background desire to feel it all again.

Harsh static broke their quiet idyll and then a voice, "Prometheus to Colonel Carter. Come in."

They both tensed. She raised her head to look into his eyes, frozen with shock.

The sound came again, and the voice was Colonel Pendergast's, "Prometheus, to Colonel Carter. What is your status?"

She tore herself off him and dug for her radio frantically. She came up with it and clicked, "Prometheus, this is Carter. Um, we're fine, Colonel, but we have to collect our things and clean up camp. I'll contact you when we're ready. Carter out." She clicked off and they shared a long quiet look of shared disappointment.

"At least they didn't beam us up first," she said, breaking into a wry look. "That would've been awkward."

Awkward and embarrassing for them both, and might prompt questions he had no wish to answer.

He sat up and held out a hand toward her. Looking curious, she knelt down and took it in hers. "I need your promise, not to speak of what I am or what has happened."

"Of course not." She gestured to the blankets. "Not that. It's nobody else's business. But not that you're a Furling?" she asked and looked disappointed when he nodded. "Daniel would love to talk to you."

It went against every nerve in his body to talk openly about his people. It was dangerous.

*And yet,* Malek spoke up, *someone should have a record, Reigar. Someone should write down what happened before all the Furlings, including you, are gone.*

"I'll think about it," he said, a little grudging. Whether it was Daniel or not was a different issue, but maybe he should tell someone about the Furlings before they were totally lost to the history of the galaxy.

She nodded, accepting that as good as she was going to get. She reached behind her and threw his pants at him. "Get dressed, or Pendergast really will beam us up like this."

He finished dressing, slid his zat'nik'tel into its holster, and put out the fire, while she re-packed everything.

They were ready. She squeezed his hand, and clicked her radio open with her other hand.

"Carter to Prometheus. We're ready to leave."

They dropped hands as soon as the acknowledgment came, preparing to transport to the ship.

But he still felt her there. Her anxiety and her excitement pulsed strongly between them, and he needed no physical connection when the mental one was so vibrant.

Someday, this would end. But for now, he was content to explore where it would take them.


Please comment if you read and enjoyed! (g)