FIFTY WAYS TO LEAVE YOUR LOVER,
Okay, maybe not fifty. And, maybe not really leave.
Spacegypsy1
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#2. The constant complaint of 'I have to go, I have a meeting' only brought forth more giggles. Then there followed the under-covers tussle that made him think of an adult rollercoaster ride. No sense complaining about that.
Nope, and logic didn't work either. What was so almighty important about meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the President when you had some hot blond in your bed? Her words, not his. If she wanted a fight, he was ready to give her one. This time he'd win, there were just some things a man had to do. And could somebody please let him know when he had become the responsible one?
Oh, hang on, he self-advised when she changed course. Out of the bed she went with a laugh-spoken 'Right, honey, you have to go'.
Was 'honey' a technical term? His moment of realization was long in coming, but eventually he did take note that she was standing there beside the bed, half in and half out of a perfectly good and practically new uniform shirt only worn for all of fifteen minutes. The shirt chosen to impress the brass he would have to face now knowing what had been wrapped in that shirt.
And so of course there was a whole bunch of grouch attached to the plea to give the shirt back. Bad idea. Bad. Bad. Bad idea.
However, his 'special' training kicked in; one hand caught the shirt mid-flight and the other one got the perfect gentle but firm elbow grasp on that swinging arm of hers and over she went, clear across him. Combat ready, he straddled her, chuckling away at her delightful giggles. He moved in for the kill. Kissing those lips so prone to the giggles.
It took him a good ten seconds to realize he'd lost.
A/N: S/J just in case you were wondering.