The first time he touched the skin over her ribs he was checking for bruises and broken bones. Her skin was so soft underneath the grit of sand and the slick of gun oil on his fingers. She smelled like sweat, blood and ivory soap. She hissed and panted between parted lips, his focus pulled between the freckles underneath the band of her bra and the straight line of her teeth where they sunk into her bottom lip. He catalogued three bruises and two fractures, but she hauled herself up off the ground, slung her P-90 back into place and took two kill shots.
The first time he touched the skin on the arch of her foot she'd fallen off the crumbly bank of an offworld creek. Sat in water that whorled around her hips, she laughed when he slipped her boot off a twisted ankle then rubbed the pad of his thumb from the ball of her food to her heel. Her feet were thin, long and strong. Her toes brushed against the skin on the inside of his wrist and when he smiled she flushed a pretty pink, rotated her ankle in his hands and declared herself sore but okay.
The first time he touched the skin stretched over her hipbone he'd only had to move the tattered uniform pants away from from the wounded skin. He was more frantic with fear than he should have been, but he'd watched the way the staff blast had hit her and knocked her into the crumbling wall behind her. She had tears in her eyes when his fingers skated around the burn. He smoothed salve over the worst of it and covered it with a bandage, but he'd had to haul her up off the floor and support her while they ran/hobbled to safety. The building continued to come down around them, and he'd tucked her face into his chest and curled a protective arm over her head.
The first time he touched the skin at the small of her back she was happy and drunk and a little sunburnt three days into a wedding ceremony off-world. She'd handed him a bottle of sunscreen and pulled her shirt over her head presenting him with her back covered in nothing but the cotton bands of her sports bra. She was too-pink and delicate looking and he hadn't had the nerve to let his palms have the fill of her they wanted. So he was careful and gentle about the way he put the sunscreen on the tips of his fingers and smeared the cool cream over her heated skin.
The first time he touched the skin of her eyelids she'd been crying. His fingertips skated over the papery skin and her tears leaked against the palm of his hand where it rested against her jaw. He'd been with her through so much pain that he was shocked when the first tears he wiped off her face were from sadness. It seemed they were destined to see everything at least once as they travelled the galaxy, but that didn't make the mass graves any easier to handle. He'd always thought her so strong that it was a relief when she fell apart even if it was in the privacy of their tent, with Teal'c standing guard and Daniel rubbing her back while tears rolled down his cheeks behind his glasses.
The first time he touched the skin over her knees he was kneeling between her legs, pushing them apart so he could get close enough to her to see the wound on her belly in the low, low light of a campfire. She was soft and delicate beneath his palms, strong and hot with fever and fire. Her knees fit perfectly into the cups of his palms and it wasn't the first time he thought she'd been built for him, but it was probably the strongest, knelt between her legs as he was with the heat of the center of her burning into his chest as he bent to examine the knife's wound.
The first time he touched the velvety wet skin inside her was just after the second time he touched the skin over her knees. He reveled in the way he cupped his hands over her knees and how perfectly they fit there and the way the heat of the center of her was wet and open and glistening for his touch. He skated his hands up from her knees, over her thighs and sunk his fingers into her.
The second time he touched the skin of her eyelids, he'd been coaxing her eyes closed as he pulled her to his mouth. He'd allowed her open eyes through the first of their kisses but finally he'd wanted her to drown in him and cut the anchor of their locked gazes even though he knew as he did it he'd miss the shocking blue of her eyes just inches from his. He ran his hands down her body cupping around her breasts then around her knees before sliding his hands up her thighs and then pressing his fingers inside her.
The second time he touched the skin at the small of her back he was pushing her shirt up her back while he devoured her mouth. Her kisses were hot and hungry and yielded only to the demand of his. Her tongue curled around his and slipped along the ridges of his teeth. His tongue slipped against the slick skin of the inside of her cheek. She tasted like coffee and his toothpaste and three days of off-world desert. He stared into her eyes until he ran the pads of his fingers over her eyes and the powdery-soft skin of her eyelids. He ran his hands down the slick skin of her body, cupped his hands around her full, weighty breasts, then down and down and around her knees so he could part her thighs. He skated his fingers up the insides of her thighs until he could sink them deep into the wet heat of her.
The second time he touched the skin stretched over her hipbone he was pushing her jeans down and off her body. Her skin was warm and smooth and interrupted only by the soft cotton of her underwear. He smoothed his hands down and over the round, firm globes of her backside and gripped the backs of her thighs. The bend in his knees pressed his chest against her belly and she shuddered despite her cotton t-shirt between them. He pushed her shirt up and lifted it over her head with quick, ready hands. He closed her open eyes with the pads of his fingers and kissed her deep and slow, wet and hot, curling his tongue around hers. His hands ghosted down the front of her body, stopping at her breasts, holding the weight of them and feeling the hard press of her nipples against his palms. He slid his hands down her sweat-slickening skin, coaxed her to lay back on the bed, he cupped her knees to part her thighs until he could slick his fingers over the wet part of her and then deep inside, curling his fingers up and towards him until she made a sound he'd never forget.
The second time he touched the skin on the arch of her foot he was knelt in front of her, lifting one foot then the other to slip off her running shoes, then her socks. She still smelled of his Colorado well water, spring rain soap and the on-sale fabric softener in his laundry room. She smiled, then laughed then threaded her fingers through his hair and back and down and over to his ear. He wobbled when he stood up in front of her, still in awe a little that he was undressing her in his bedroom after all the years since he'd met her. But he pushed her jeans down over her hips and her shirt up over her head, kissed her deep and ran his fingers down over her soft, soft eyelids. He couldn't keep his hands off her body and detoured at her desire-swollen, sensitive breasts before pushing her legs apart from her knees and sinking his fingers into the moist, pink, needy part of her.
The second time he touched the skin over her ribs he snuck his hands up under her shirt barely believing they were talking about going to bed together after so many years. She smelled like his shower and clean laundry and her hair was a mess but he nipped at her lips and smiled against her and they laughed together like it wasn't the first time they'd done this. Dressed only in boxer shorts, waylaid on the way to his shower, he knelt before her and removed her shoes, divested her of first her pants, then her shirt, then her underwear.
When he kissed her she kept her eyes open for one long kiss after another and so did he, until he coaxed her eyes closed with gentle fingers. His greedy hands traveled down her body until he could test the weight of her breasts and the sharpness of her nipples by the gauge of his palms. He skated his hands down her sweaty, ready, slick skin and pushed her gently, coaxing her onto, into his bed.
He cupped her knees and kissed her belly button then pushed her knees apart until he could fit his hand into the vee of her thighs and then his fingers deep inside her. She twisted and mewled then sighed with relief. Then he crooked his fingers inside her and she made a noise he'd take to bed with him every night for the rest of his life even on the nights he'd take her, too.
He brought her to the edge of her pleasure and then once more for good measure before situating his hips between her splayed thighs and sliding himself, hot, hard and wet with readiness so deep inside he had to pause to give them both time to adjust to the sensations. It had been all about his hands on her for so very long that it was impossible for him to keep his hands out from between them so he rubbed tiny circles around the right part of her until she started to ripple around him.
The first time he touched all of her, he was inside her and she was wrapped, clinging around him, panting, tangled in the dark sheets of his bed.
When she came, she crashed like waves around him, surging against him; she was power and weight and effervescent bubbles. She was need and want and bouts of laughter enveloped with sighs. When she came she was lost. And so was he.