Disclaimer: They ain't mine and it's probably best that way. But I'm not going to let that stop me.
Summary: She knows something must be wrong when she finds the computer more interesting than him.
Author's notes: This is a sound challenge response (http://sound.gatefiction.com) and so thanks so ever much to Teanna for giving me the idea. And to Lydia who's becoming the regular guest star in my author's notes 'cause she's just so wonderful. (Also? She betas.)
And... I wrote Sam/Ainsley. Why? Because, that's why. Shuddup
No Alarms And No Surprises
White Star 2
There's silence, except his breaths and hers, gasps intruding on what would otherwise be a quiet late night at the office. The first time, in his office, it was daring and dangerous. They could have been caught. Someone could have heard something, someone could have seen her stumbling out of the communications bullpen and downstairs to the basement, her hair a mess and her clothes hastily buttoned together. It was exciting.
The lights come on, a bright flicker, and Sam doesn't stop. She doesn't tell him to. At least one of them is enjoying himself. The computer powers up, the laptop on his desk, and it's an almost silent tick and then a whine. Startled, she gasps. Maybe Sam thinks it's pleasure. Maybe he thinks it's him.
The whine gets higher and higher in pitch, and she stares at the shut blinds. He kisses her neck. She loosens the arm that's wrapped around his shoulder. There's nothing in her head but that whine, and it seems to go on forever. It echoes in her head, still rising. She can't chase it out.
It ends abruptly with a beep. She closes her eyes. Any tingles of pleasure that might have been there before are gone by now. There's just Sam, still in her, still moving. If she listens carefully, there's the computer, nearly drowned out by their breathing.
She's still not sure what attracted her to him. He's a pretty boy, not really her style. Maybe it was that he disagreed with her about nearly everything, and yet they never rose above a civil argument. Maybe it was something else. She really doesn't know.
There's a buzzing sound, she knows there's a fan inside the laptop somewhere, and it's spinning, racing, faster than her mind. And he doesn't notice. It bothers her. Then quiet rattles and a mechanical yawn, and another. Even the computer is bored with the sight of them.
"Stop," she whispers and she can't even hear herself. There's another beep from the computer and it drowns out her voice. "Stop." Louder this time, and he hears it. He complies, lets go completely. He's so startled by this he just drops everything - drops her.
"Did I hurt you?" he asks, concerned.
"No," she says. "No. I just..."
He retreats, he turns around. She straightens her skirt and he pulls up his pants. He doesn't look at her again until he's dressed. "I'm sorry," he says and she just keeps buttoning up her blouse.
She looks down first, then toward the door, then at the computer, humming softly now, the login screen waiting. She tries to remember whether or not she came up here with her jacket on. "I don't remember" is the answer she comes up with, so she strides toward the door.
"Ainsley," he starts and she shuts the door before he can continue.
She stumbles out of the communications bullpen and downstairs to her office. Her hair is probably a mess and her clothes are wrinkled. And none of it is exciting.