Survival Instinct7
Moira waited in her room. Paced. Paced. Sighed. Finally laid back on her bed, trying to quench the rushes of longing. Need. Lust. Her body inundated with sexual tensions, memories, hungers. She bent her knees, rocking. Feet flat on the bed, tapping impatiently. Waiting. She considered. Smiled. Tapped the earpiece. "Jo-hn," she sang warmly.
John nearly dropped the gun he was holding, avoided shooting off his foot by the barest of inches as his finger slid off the trigger. Her inviting tone whispered in his ear, along his body. "Go again," he ordered the men. "Switch here to automatic rounds. Go." He stepped away from the line of marines as the air resounded with weaponry. "Moira?" he asked, tapping the earpiece.
"Who else? No, don't answer that. John, are you still busy?"
"Yes, Moira," he answered with a quick smile.
"Strawberries, John," she tried to entice, to lure.
"Behave yourself, Moira," he admonished. Licked his lips.
"I don't want to behave, John. Not at all. Tell me, Colonel Sheppard, are you stroking your ordnance right now?"
"What?" John coughed, lowered his voice. Her voice purring in his ear, drawing out his name in breathy adoration.
"Are you stroking that big, hard, long ordnance of yours, colonel? Because I thought that was my purview. Will you let me take the stick, John?"
He laughed, but coughed to cover the sound. Looked over at the men. "Next target," he ordered, trying to sound serious. Stern. But her words were producing other reactions. "It's the enzyme, Moira. You can take the stick later," he assured quietly.
"I know it's the enzyme, silly. But I want you, John. I need you. Why won't you come to me, John? You, you killed for me. I know I should be upset, but I'm not. Oh John...don't you want me?"
"Of course I want you, Moira, just not now," he replied, listening. He turned suddenly. The men were waiting. Eying him with gazes of curiosity. "Yes? Next target. Do I have to hold your hands?" he snapped. "Change to the Wraith stunners now! See how they handle."
"Ooh, I'd love to see how your ordnance handles, John. Such big, hard ordnance...oh sweetie, come to me," she wooed.
He waited until the sounds of weaponry covered his voice. "I can't come right now, Moira. Damn that stuff works fast," he muttered. Torn between amusement and irritation. Between duty and desire.
"What? You can always come, John, can't you?"
He laughed. Sighed. "Moira, please!"
"You can feel it too, can't you? Don't be so stubborn, sweetie. Don't pretend your ordnance isn't ready to deploy. Hmm...fine, John. Be that way. Guess I'll have to do this without you."
"What?" He stepped away from the men. Listening intently now. "Moira?"
She moaned, made little whimpering sounds that she knew would arouse him. "Oh John, oh John, this bra is so tight. The lace is rubbing on my nipples...so rough...I would prefer your tongue....oh, that's better. Much better," she teased. Smirking as she stared at the ceiling, hands folded on her waist. "That feels good...but not as good as your hands, John. Can you feel it?"
"Yes," he rasped. Turning away from the men to listen as his body reacted. He licked his lips, imagining the scene.
"Oh John," she moaned. "My side feels fine. My ribs don't hurt. I could take a man's weight on me. In me. Over and over. Oh, I'd better check that too. Such tight, tight panties."
John suppressed a groan. "Moira, please. Don't go there," he said tersely, but wanted her to do just that. Pictured her on her bed. Her hands roaming all over her naked body. He shifted his stance as desire pulsed, pulsed.
"Sir? Colonel Sheppard, what next?"
John inwardly swore, pushed down on his growing erection. He turned. "Another round. Cross check. Go for the kill-shot. Target farther back. You need to penetrate," he paused, regretting the word but feeling a vivid anticipation too, "the most vulnerable area. Go!" He tried to keep the strain out of his voice. Waited. Waited. Frowned. "Moira?" he asked, stepping against the wall. Into the shadows.
Moira smiled. Knew she had him. Had only to reel him in like a fish caught on a hook. Considered. "Penetration, John. Hmm...you seem to know the concept but are oddly reluctant to act upon it. I'm certain your big, hard ordnance can penetrate my sweet center, can't it? Oh, oh John, oh John," she whimpered, moaning as if they were indulging in actual foreplay, "it's so tight, so wet. Oh right here, John, so open now...so slick and hot...oh God, oh God...oh John. John. John!" she repeated his name in a breathy crescendo as if coming. Breathed heavily into the earpiece. "Oh John...thank you, colonel. I guess just your voice was enough to bring me."
John was frozen, listening raptly. Imagining the most erotic, explicit pictures in his head. His body nearly thrumming with desire, with lust now. Wanting her. "Moira? Moira?" He smiled. Knew exactly what she was doing but didn't care. Unable to resist. Unwilling. He strode to the line of men. "Peterson, continue. I've been called away on urgent duty."
"Yes, sir!"
John strode to her room, forcing himself not to run. His long strides reached her door in record time. He didn't bother to knock. Opened the door. Entered and closed it behind him. Stared at the bed. At her on it.
Moira laughed at his disappointed expression. "What were you expecting, John? To find me naked, spread-eagled on the bed? Ready for the taking?"
He grinned, eyes roving over her fully clothed body. He met her gaze as her hands rested primly on her waist. "At the very least I was hoping to see a show, baby." She laughed. He moved to her, sat close. Touched her knee. "Damn it, Moira! What the hell was that? More importantly do you still require my services or did you achieve what you needed?"
She smiled. Caught his hand on her knee. "Hmm...you had your chance, John. You can't keep a woman waiting forever, you know." She sat up. Kissed him. A long kiss to savor his mouth. The feel of his full lips. "Maybe I'll give you a second chance."
"You better, baby. You've got me ready for lift-off just by your delicious mouth," he stated.
"Damn, Moira!"
"Damn, John!" she rejoined. "Are you going to talk all day or do–"
He kissed her, hard, shoving her onto her back on the bed. His hands wandered roughly. "Are you sure, Moira?"
She sighed. Pulled him closer. "Yes, John! Do I have to spell it out for you, sweetie?"
He laughed. "Yes. Why don't you, baby? Explain it to me in very explicit terms." He slid his hand between her legs. Groped to make her squirm, moan. "Ah...you weren't kidding, were you, Moira? Ripe and ready."
"John! Don't do that unless you mean it, please," she complained, as his fingers caressed and stroked, arousing her wildly.
"Oh, I mean it, Moira. I always mean this." He kissed her again. His fingers undid her pants. Unzipped. Slid into them to caress against the damp underwear. She moaned softly.
"Colonel Sheppard?" The voice in his ear interrupted. He jerked upright. Swore. Met her amorous gaze. He moved his hand but she yanked it back to her. Opened her legs to give him more access. Lifted slightly, a murmur in her throat.
"No, no, flyboy, you promised me!" she scolded. "At least bring me, John! Bring me!"
He groaned as she guided his fingers into her panties now. Shifting. "Fuck. Moira, I–"
"Colonel Sheppard? What's your twenty?"
He smothered a laugh, leaning down to kiss her deeply as she laid back again. His fingers caressed, probed boldly. She gasped, murmured at his touch. "My twenty is in Moira's sweet, sweet center," he answered gruffly against her skin.
"Copy, sir? I didn't catch that."
"What is it, captain?" John snapped. His fingers froze. He touched her lips with his other hand. Silencing her.
"We've finished ordnance training, sir. What are your orders?"
"Penetration, John," she whispered, moving his hand off her mouth. She kissed it, ran her tongue along his thumb.
"Penetration," he repeated. "Oh shit," he realized. She laughed softly as his chagrin, his mock glare at her.
"Copy, sir? Pene–"
John replied sternly, "Penetration, like I said! Entering enemy territory. Forming a perimeter. Practice run on the fourth quad. Get Major Lorne to–"
"Maneuver, John," she teased. Taking his forefinger into her mouth and sucking it. Hard.
"Maneuver," he repeated, groaning as she was bringing him mercilessly. "And oversee the training. I'm tied up here and will be for awhile."
"Do you want me to tie you up, soldier?" she asked. Freed his finger. Drew it down across her breasts to feel her hard nipples poking the t-shirt. She sat to kiss him.
"Copy? What? Repeat," John said, too distracted to hear the man. He freed his hand from Moira's. "Baby, cut it out," he mildly scolded.
"Sir, I asked if we are to use regular ordnance or–"
Moira swore. She clicked her earpiece twice. "You heard your orders, captain! Regular ordnance! I've got the colonel's considerable ordnance in hand! Now go!" She shoved John onto his back. Yanked down his zipper on his pants. She pounced onto him, kissing him passionately. Tongue gliding into his mouth, then out. Nibbling on his lower lip as her body squirmed on his.
"Sir? Sir, who was–"
John switched off the earpiece, removed his, hers, threw them both to the table. Laughed heartily. Rolled so she was beneath him. "Damn, Moira! All right! You have my complete attention, baby. Full penetration to commence as soon as I can get you out of those clothes."
She smiled. "Now that's more like it, colonel!"
************************************************************************
John rolled onto his back, breathed deeply. Exhausted. Happily so. He could feel the sweat trickling along his body. The room was warm. He could smell the sex hovering in the air. The perfume of their repeated intercourse clinging to their bodies, to the bed. He flung his arm over his eyes, closing them. Licked his lips as thirst seized him. He opened his eyes to glance at his watch. Closed his eyes again. "Over an hour," he muttered proudly. Smugly. Impressed at their mutual stamina. As eager as she had been it had taken forever to bring her, longer than it had to bring him. He wondered if she had deliberately delayed, delayed the climax to prolong their union. Their intimacy. Their pleasure. Recalling her ecstatic cries he grinned.
"John." Moira swallowed, exhausted. Hot. Sweaty. Thirsty. She stared at the ceiling. Feeling sticky. Body still pulsing with the pleasure. Climax after climax. She turned onto her side towards him. "I'm sorry."
He laughed weakly. "Sorry? You never have to apologize for sex, Moira. Never! Especially sex like that."
She colored, felt the wetness of sweat, of spent semen trickling along her. Felt the echoes of him inside her, along her. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "Damn enzyme,"she muttered.
He laughed again. "I don't know what's better, Moira. One beer. Or that damn enzyme."
She hit his arm, causing him to laugh again. "It's not funny, John! I've...I've been thinking..."
"I know exactly what you've been thinking, sweetheart. I have no complaints, Moira."
"Good to know, John," she sarcastically noted. He laughed. "Nor do I. I mean..." His renewed laughter made her sigh.
"I know that too, baby. It's a wonder no one came to check on you. Those sounds..."
"Hilarious, John!"
"It is, Moira," he refuted her scolding.
She touched his arm, his bare chest. Kissed his lips. "John...I'm serious now. Are we...I've been thinking. Are we..."
"Are we what, Moira?"
"Are we having too much sex?"
He lowered his arm. Met her gaze. Bit back any glib reply seeing her serious expression. Brown eyes solemn. Despite being naked in bed with him. Despite appearing disheveled but sated. "Too much sex?" he repeated. She waited. He turned to her. Stroked her shoulder, her bare arm. Glancing down at her breasts before meeting her eyes again. "You mean because of the enzyme?"
"Maybe..." she conceded, shrugged.
He kissed her. "Maybe," he echoed. "Honestly, I don't think that is possible. For us. To have too much sex. Not enough, but never too much."
She saw the contained merriment in his brilliant green eyes. Frowned and rolled away from him. "Oh never mind!"
He laughed at her anger. Pulled her back against him but paused. Eyes lowering to her back, to her rear. "Son of a..." he muttered.
Realizing her mistake she tried to roll onto her back but he gently moved her onto her stomach. Ran his hand down to her rear. Ran his fingers over the scratches, the oddly shaped semi-circular mark he realized with a start was a bite. "John," she cautioned.
"That fucking bastard!" he swore furiously. Quietly. He freed her as she rolled over to face him.
"It's nothing, John! It doesn't matter! Please, it's nothing!"
He kissed her, moving her onto her back, sliding over her. "It does. It does! Although I guess not now. Now that the bastard's dead. You should have told me, Moira!"
She ran her fingers along his hair, face, jaw. Lips. "No. John, don't be upset. It's over now. Nothing happened. Like that. Nothing..." She took a deep breath, released it. "I'm fine."
"I know. It could have, though! Damn it! I should have been here! Just the thought of that fucking bastard touching you like that–"
"Ssh." She kissed him, pulled him closer. "It's not your fault, sweetie. Please. John..." She kissed him again, hands stroking his arms, his back now as he began to return her affections. To move along her body. "John? You've got to be kidding me!"
He laughed. "Yes. At the moment. See? We don't have too much sex. Enzyme or no enzyme, Moira." He slid partially off her to recline, relax. Hold her close.
"Maybe, John. I can't think clearly right now."
"That makes two of us, baby."
"I suppose you have to go. Supervise the training or whatever."
"Yeah. Whatever most likely. I'd rather stay here. In case you become overwhelmed by the enzyme again and start to harass me over the comm."
She laughed. "Harass? You loved every minute of it, John. Hell, you were ready to go full throttle before you even touched me!"
"True," he agreed with a smile. "Geez, Moira, maybe we are having too much sex."
She shoved him.. Scrambled off the bed. "Men!" As he laughed she quickly dressed, yanking on her underwear and clothing with practiced efficiency. "This is going to be awkward."
"Awkward? You seemed to get back into your clothes pretty damn fast," he complained. But sat up and did the same.
"Not that! Let me think, John. What are you going to say? I couldn't finish training the recruits because I had to have hours of amazing sex with Moira?"
He laughed. "Hour. Only an hour," he corrected, "but yes, that's pretty much my excuse. You needed help keeping your lush ordnance in check so I complied. That is my job. Simple."
"Simple? Not to mention if anyone happened to walk by and heard us during our, um, ordnance check. I should have remembered to shout oh John Anderson."
"Hilarious, Moira. And not funny. But you have a good point," he realized. "Shit. I'm the one who wanted to be discreet in the first place." He frowned, thinking fast. "Okay. We can salvage this situation. I'll go to the physics lab and say there was some kind of emergency, or perceived emergency there. Since there usually is. You just go back to the bio lab and pretend that you were working in the Wraith lab. No one goes down there anyway. Moira?"
She was staring at him. "Salvage? John, what's the point? I mean...I mean...you, what you did to Parrish. Surely that threw discretion out the window?"
"No, nearly so, but I salvaged that as well. We're good to go, Moira. Don't you worry."
"I'm not worried. You are! John, what is the big deal? Would it be so terrible if other people knew we were together?" Suddenly she drew her hair over her injuries.
John caught her hand, moved her hair back from her face. Kissed her lips gently. "No. I told you, Moira. I want my private life private. Our time together private."
"Why? Do you already have your next lots some woman lined up?" she flared.
He frowned. "No, of course not!" He stood. "I don't line them up. They come to me. Like you did. Remember?" Seeing her startled uncertainty he quickly added, "Moira, no. I didn't mean it like that! Honestly!" He sat, took her hands into his. "If, if you were just another lots some woman then I wouldn't care by now who knew."
"Because it would be over?"
"Um...yeah," he admitted. Glanced at their hands. Uncomfortable.
"So you're saying because I'm not just another lots some woman you do care. You care who knows?" He nodded. She frowned. "That doesn't make any sense, John. I don't understand. Why are you so worried that we–"
He kissed her, cutting off her words. His. Stood. "Just humor me, Moira. All right?" he said sharply, embarrassed by his revelations. "I can't explain it. I won't. I've got work to do."
"John! You have to explain it! John, what is the big–"
"Tonight. Yours. Don't push it, Moira," he warned. Abruptly left the room.
Moira stared after him. Bewildered by his words, his actions. Determined to get to the bottom of things one way or another.
