"This woman is under my protection. She is not to be taken by any man." Those words and their double entendre echoed in my mind as we kissed. Linea had confessed her crimes. She'd caused the deaths of thousands of people. She was ashamed. I admired her for that--For taking responsibility for such a horrible accident. Denial of responsibility was the drug of choice on Earth, and I found myself drawn to Linea to the sorrow of her convictions.
I could relate to her feelings. I had been in the same situations, where my actions had equal chance of saving the world or destroying it. Linea had faced my greatest fear, and had been left vulnerable. I acted in the customs of my planet. I hugged her, offering her my empathy.
When we parted, she'd said my name. Not Captain Carter. Not Sam. "Samantha." No one ever called me that. How did she know my secrets so quickly? She rose up on her toes and kissed me. When I didn't pull away, she increased the pressure of her lips on my mouth, until I felt her softness and her taste became a draw I couldn't ignore.
I was willing to bet few who had lived and died on the prison world Hadante could relate to the burdens science placed on Linea. My uniqueness had earned me this private moment in Linea's chambers. Linea made me feel special, as she drew me down to the pallet beside the electric blue waterfall.
* * *
When my breathing had evened, I rolled to my side and kissed Linea's shoulder. She tasted of the sweetened mush she had shared with only me, and of the mysteriously beautiful alien foliage that lined her chambers. I slid down to her breast. I caught the scent of something tangy--her arousal--as my mouth closed over her nipple.
"Samantha." She breathed. "You don't have to--"
But I did. I had to hear her say my name again like that. No one else called me Samantha and she claimed me with that word. I moved to her other nipple, taking it between my lips. She arched her back, thrusting her chest toward me. With other women, suckling had been a nurturing act, laying claim to that deepest part of our womanhood. Here, now, I wasn't indulging in my own need to taste the sweetness of her breast, and she wasn't cradling my head and whispering to me.
I was acting to arouse her. I wanted her to feel the same heat she had created inside me. I wanted to please her and excite her. I grazed her nipple with my teeth. She gasped my name, again. I lifted my head and saw her, head thrown back, eyes closed. Her body was pale but her skin was moist with sweat. I watched her, in awe of my own power, just as I had been in awe of hers.
Her eyes fluttered open. "Samantha." The intensity in her features was almost scary. She was giving me an order with that one word, and I covered her breasts with my hands and watched her expression change. Her features seemed to dissolve with exhilaration.
I slid lower, lowering my head to her bare abdomen. I tasted her skin. Her flesh was as soft as threadbare cotton and she was pale, almost gray, from her time underground. She was surprisingly frail compared to my previous lovers, though whether it was the poor living conditions or her age, I couldn't speculate. Her voice was the locus of her power. Whenever she spoke, I was paralyzed into listening.
The timbre of her voice was intoxicating. The whole prison was prey to her words, but right now she was speaking only to me.
"Samantha." The word filled my ears. I could hear nothing else. Not even our breathing. I knew my own power, pressing my mouth to her belly. She was pleading with me. Linea, the most brilliant woman I had ever met, begging me to do something I would gladly do. I caressed her breasts. I circled her navel with my tongue. I never thought of pulling away, of leaving her stranded at the height of arousal, just because I could. In hindsight I would learn that was the difference between good and evil, that in the moment where Linea could have changed my life forever, she abandoned me.
Her hands covered mine on her breasts. I looked up again as I slid lower, searching her features. I was surprised to see her so vulnerable. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to comfort her. All I could do was kiss her stomach. I slid lower. The scent of her was stronger at the crux of her thighs. I inhaled deeply.
My body had become a tool for pleasuring her. I felt her wetness on my cheeks. I heard her harsh breathing. Beyond Linea, I knew nothing, existed as nothing but lips and teeth and tongue exploring the secret knowledge between her legs.
When her hands abandoned my own in order to grab my head, I held her hips to mediate her thrusts against my mouth. She twisted in my arms. I held her more tightly. My tongue slid inside her.
"Samantha," Linea moaned, struggling. My arms ached from pinning her down. My nose hurt from repeated blunt force contact with her hipbone. She finally erupted with a cry. Her thighs clamped around my head, and I let go of her hips to grab her legs, wrenching them apart for air. A choked sob escaped my lips with the first gasp of oxygen. Relief filled me. I hadn't failed Linea.
She tugged gently at my hair. I lifted myself and smiled at her. "Samantha," she said, again, sweetly this time. Now that I had proven myself, now that we were equals, we would love like women. I leaned up to kiss her.
"Samantha," she said, stopping my approach. "Tell me more about the symbols on the Stargate."
I was confused, but when she drew me down to her shoulder, I acquiesced. "The stars, as seen from planets, form pictures in the sky. We call them constellations..." The best way to get knowledge, I believed, was to give it. Someone had told me that once.