Title: Tan Lines
Author: Pepper
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1085
Pairing: Richard Dean Anderson/Amanda Tapping
Summary: There's something in that intent look that throws her off-track.
A/N: Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle VII, posted here.

Yes, yes, yes, RPF. I'm a freak, I know.

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It's her turn to come back sun-warmed and lightly roasted, and when Teryl quizzes her about tan lines and sunbathing naked, she glances up, and catches him watching. There's something in that intent look that throws her off-track. When she pauses, Teryl follows the direction of her gaze – but by the time Teryl has turned her head, his expression has changed to a wicked smirk.

"Don't mind me," says Rick, leaning his chin in his hand and motioning for them to continue. "Go on." Teryl laughs and shakes her head. "What?!" he demands theatrically, laughing, performing for them. Amanda chuckles, and the moment passes.

She's not wholly surprised when he knocks on her trailer door after the day's filming is done.

He tips his head to one side in enquiry, seeing the phone at her ear, and she waves him in, holding up a finger to indicate she'll be just one minute. She fiddles with the tie of her robe as she wraps up the conversation with her agent, and then turns to find he's made himself comfortable on the bed. It's nothing unusual – it's by far the most comfortable seat in the place, particularly for the tall men in her life.

"Hi," she smiles. It feels like forever since they last spent time alone. She drops to the bed and curls up comfortably against him.

"How was the holiday?" He's flicking through the photos she'd left by her bedside this morning, forgetting she wanted to show them around.

She snuggles a little closer, and sighs wistfully. "Sunny." He glances sideways, and smiles.

"Yeah, Hawaii can be like that. During the day, anyway." He pauses on a photo of her in a sarong at the beach bar, holding up a ridiculously huge cocktail with both hands. Her face peers out from behind an assortment of flora and neon plastic doodads, and even if the memory wasn't so recent, she'd be able to tell just from her expression that she was half-drunk. "Nice."

"Oh god, that drink was lethal. Tasted like fruit juice," she reminisces, grinning.

"They're the most dangerous." He sets the photos carefully aside again, and turns slightly so that she's leaning into the hollow of his shoulder, his face close and tilted down towards hers. His hand strays to her waist. "Hello, Amanda," he says, softly.

Despite how this might appear, she is slightly surprised. He spends plenty of time with her when they're on a shoot – sometimes for work and sometimes just to hang out. She suspects it's because she's good at balancing the times when he wants to be casually ignored in her space with the times when he wants feminine attention and flattery. But only a few times has it led to this, and she's never worked out the trigger. It's just... a thing. This warm, secret knowledge in his eyes sometimes, when he looks at her.

They shuffle down to the horizontal, he props himself on his elbow, and she lets him rearrange her to his satisfaction, tucking his hand under her far knee and raising it so that their bodies create a warm shelter between them. Then he runs his hand back down to her foot, and strokes it lightly. His eyebrows quirk slightly, seeking permission, and she nods.

He takes it slow. His hands delight in touching her, starting at her feet and working up, seemingly fascinated by texture, shape, span, give. Slowly, he explores beneath her robe, and she soaks up the attention, her skin awakening with his leisurely kisses. She can feel him hard against her thigh. By the time his fingers slide into her sleep shorts, she's forgotten all about the drizzling rain outside. This is like being back on that beach, stretched out under the hot sun. She's slow-burning for him, her heart beat reflected in a strong pulse between her legs. He pauses to claim her mouth and ensure he has her full attention, and then bunches his fingers and slides them down hard, and back up softly. She gasps against his mouth, and can feel his answering grin.

"Were you naked?" he asks, his fingers everywhere. She feels her pulse fluttering to the rhythm he's playing.

"Yes," she groans, not even sure what his question was, only that she would answer yes to anything he asked, right now.

That seems to satisfy him, and he hooks a leg over hers and moves closer, overwhelming her senses. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel him watching her closely as he caresses, rubs, slides in and out of her body until her hips are pushing back involuntarily, and she's almost ready to beg him to put that hard-on to good use. He doesn't go all the way, though – they haven't (yet?) – and his clever fingers push her to the edge, and gently, relentlessly over. Heat floods her body, and she shudders in his arms, murmuring wordlessly, and curls her head until it's tucked under his chin. He wraps himself around her as she comes down, and she feels the press of his lips in her hair.

When she's caught her breath, she opens her eyes and breathes in, relishing his smell. His muscles are still tensed, although he's not making any move to urge her on. She runs her hand down his chest, making him twitch, and goes straight for his dick. She presses her palm against the hot bulge, and he pushes eagerly towards her, so she quickly unbuttons and unzips his pants, and slips her hand inside.

He hides his face in her hair, keeping his arms around her. The angle is a little awkward, but she manages to wrap her hand around him, rubbing firmly up and down, and he groans. She thinks about how crazy she could make him, if he'd let her, and makes a mental note to keep some lube handy for next time, just in case.

God, she is crazy.

He's breathing hard, and she feels the puff of it against her scalp. He's very close, and when she swirls her hand around the head, his arms tighten even more, and he groans and comes hard. She coaxes him through the aftershocks, and then holds him as his breathing slowly returns to normal, feeling the damp stickiness on her fingers. It's lucky his trailer is just next door. She's too relaxed to worry about how much that thought warms her.

They lie cocooned together in comfortable silence, listening as the rain picks up.

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END.