Summary: Waking up with a Major problem in your bed? Not a promising start to the day.
Spoilers: None
A/N: I'm writing this fast and lose and flying solo – without beta. Though now I see why one would be so useful. This was derived from my ill-fit summary to another story, when I reread it and got the wrong idea. Humour's not my usual thing, nor smut, but that's what's coming out and I'm trying to get back into the writing groove. And it amused me, so here's hoping it amuses someone else.
Disclaimer: I own no rights related to the Stargate franchise. This is a non-profit work of fan appropriation.
--
This morning, consciousness did not steal over her. It tromped, with steel boots, right through her head and cackled at her cottony mouth and a tongue that still tasted the bitter tang of metal. It smashed through a really decent, really needed dream and started jumping up and down on her for shits and giggles.
This morning, whatever god there might be must hate her. Hated her so much he was breathing down her neck.
Breathing really loudly, in order to induce a migraine. Breathing in and out against the back of her head in a manner that only called attention to the fact that time was passing and each second was a fresh opportunity for her head to throb and her stomach to roil. Breathing-
Oh fuc- no, better not to even think that word just now- Oh frick – much better. Oh frick oh frick. Oh mother-loving frick.
Because the breathing was real, and was really not hers. And once she forced her mind to pay attention to the world such as it was past her hangover, there was something- someone- warm and solid and definitely not the blanket pressed against her at certain places.
She panicked. The fight or flight instinctual response was very much in evidence except there wasn't a good way to accomplish either one. How do you fight an unarmed, probably unconscious man in your bed? And fleeing from a possibly-conscious man while completely naked was not exactly a scenario that made her happy.
The sheet was the stereotypical situation saver, but a few tentative tugs proved she couldn't get it out from under him, god only knew where her blanket was and her clothes were all the way over there where she'd left them, and anyway, it was her quarters.
She faked a shift in her sleep, elbowing the man as hard as she could with the limited maneuvering room, keeping her face firmly buried in the pillow.
He didn't move. Shit, he was really out of it.
She risked a tiny peek to make sure his eyes were closed, even though this forced her to acknowledge who it was sharing her bed this morning. Yep, they're closed and yep, whatever god there might be hated her.
But at least he was giving her the chance to flee this moment, and face the proverbial music after she had found some coffee. She slipped out of bed, ducking down to hide herself in case irony decided to butt in and finally wake him up. Nothing. Time to dash now, scavenging BDUs from the floor, shoving her sidearms anywhere they'd stay and hoping like hell she'd managed to get her buttons in the right holes before she fled to the hallway.
Fleeing her own room to the relative safety of alien hallways. Oh god, what had her world become?
It had become utterly problematic, she decided, as she forced herself to half-jog towards the mess hall. With distance, her mind cleared a little, enough to remind her of the dream she had been having before all hell broke loose in her waking life.
--
She was in bed.
She knew she was dreaming because she couldn't read his dogtags. His name was pretty much there all right, but every time she tried to read off his SSN, it came out different. Sure sign she was asleep. That or clinically moronic. Either way, that made this ok.
It's ok that they're both naked. It's ok that she could feel his erection hitting under her ribcage as she plays with his tags. It's ok when she sets them in her teeth and drags her body up against his, resting her pubic bone on top of him in an exciting way.
Lucid dreaming sex isn't really that great, but when it's all you're getting, you make it do.
She isn't sure exactly which memory of whose body was lying under her right now, but she wills it a little firmer. Lorne spends a lot of time with the other guys in the gym. And she gives him a little tickling chest hair. After all, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who waxes.
She glanced up to his face, not because she expected any reaction to be there - not until she wanted it - but just to remind herself of his features. Dream guys tended to act much like suggestable blow up dolls, but that was fine with her, she liked to be in charge. Except sometimes, when it's nice to be subdued with a little force.
No sooner had she the thought, but her Lorne-doll came to life and flipped her over, pinning her to the bed with remarkable speed and agility. Her mouth still held his dogtags, and she ran her tongue over the ridges, tugging a little on the chain to make him go.
The weight lifted off her as their contact became more interesting. Rubbing and stroking her clit, dipping down to play before stroking back up and down, back and forth. The rhythm was starting to fall into a measured pace, she was starting to breath hard when the throbbing spread to her head and the tension to her stomach and her surroundings became disappointingly unarousing. The metallic taste of the dogtags in her mouth was the last thing to fade as she woke up to her nightmare.
--
She dodged through the long empty corridors like she was still dreaming, in futile flight from unimaginable horror. Except she was really here and there were subtle differences each time she rounded a corner, and just one more now and she'd be in the-
A body loomed before her and she put on the brakes in not-exactly-graceful suddenness. Oh god, it was Major Sheppard.
"Hey Lieutenant. Uh, are you... okay?" There was a hint of concerned confusion in his eyes and voice as he looked her up and down, and her mind flew to the worst: he knew.
She controlled the impulse to look down. "Of course. Fine, sir. Why do you ask?"
"You've got your pistol in your pocket."
Blushing now she holstered it. "In a rush this morning sir."
"Good. Well, okay. Just don't let it happen again." There was still suspicion in his eyes but he walked away, and Laura felt her heart rate creep down again.
That was a weird conversation.
When she turned back to get in the chow line, Kate was wandering by.
"Laura, are you ok?"
The tension got to her and she almost screamed. "What!?"
"It's just that you look like you've been attacked."
Grabbing Kate's arm, she pulled the older woman off to relative privacy against the wall.
"What'd I do?" Oh god, oh god, what had she done?
"It's just we didn't see you again after you dragged Major Lorne out the door to raid the pantry."
Was that it? She almost remembered that. And it sounded like her. "Nothing happened!"
"What happened?" That was the problem with friends: they knew you.
"Nothing!"
"Okay then."
"Damn straight!"
There was a pause then, as they looked at each other. The doctor took a delicate sip before opening her mouth to ask as if for the first time:
"What happened?"
Laura crumpled back, throwing her hands over her face. "I made him sleep with me."
This time the silence was full of shock. "Let's go to my office."
--
--
A/N: Seemed like a place for a chapter break. I've got the scenes mapped out for the second half. There's lots of room for input, corrections etc. Hint hint.