Kin Recognition7

Moira returned his kisses. Eager. Almost desperate to have him, to claim him. She stepped out of her pants, flung herself into his arms. He lifted her, carried her to the bed where he set her gently onto the mattress. He moved over her. Moira opened her legs, still kissing, still grasping.

She ran her mouth along his jaw, up his throat to circle his ear.

John moaned, reacting. He unbuttoned, unzipped his pants. Yanked them down. Her fingers flew to his boxers, touching. Teasing. Making him groan into her hair. He fingered her panties, yanking them down, down, off, nearly ripping them. Shoving her legs apart as she pulled on his erection suddenly. Hand squeezing until he groaned. Loudly.

"Ssh!" she warned, freeing him. Scooting up the bed. But he pursued her. Yanked open his shorts. Tearing them down and entering her with a quick but careful thrust. She was ready, wet and snug. Embracing him as he thrust, thrust. Deliberate, slow, tense motions. His breath quick, raw on her skin.

Moira murmured, whimpering as he kept moving. Harder. Harder. But not faster. Not yet. She tried to keep quiet, to soften her sounds, her reactions. Holding onto him as he rocked her. One methodical thrust after another. Stifling his groans against her breasts still covered by her shirt. He exhaled, began to breathe easier as the tension coiled, coiled. He moved faster now, bringing them to the edge, circling with pleasure, anticipation.

John kissed her as she squirmed beneath him. Small sounds escaping her pursed lips. John kissed her hard, deep. Taking in her cries, her gasps as his groans filled her mouth. The bed was rocking awkwardly. The springs squeaking loudly. He broke from her mouth to groan loudly, couldn't hold it in as the pleasure mounted, mounted. Tension unbearable. Hardness demanding more. More. More. "Moira, my Moira! Fuck fuck fuck fuck you are so sweet," he said low. Voice a rasping snarl.

"John! Oh John, John please John please John John," she whispered. As the climax abruptly escalated into vibrant orgasmic pleasure she cried out. Gasping, arching. Crying out his name loudly as he kept taking her. Faster. Harder.

"Moira! Fuck!" he exclaimed as he came in a rush. Release exploding the tension from his body. He kept moving, moving, unable to stop. Creating eddies of pleasure, ripples traveling their bodies. Moira was writhing beneath him, clutching, soft sobs and moans music to his ears. He grunted, moaned with a long breath as the final spasm shook him. Eased him. Fulfilled him.

He fell upon her. Kissed her throat and ran his tongue to her earlobe. One hand sliding under her shirt, under her bra to clasp a breast. "Moira."

"John..." she exhaled, relaxing. Exhausted by the sex. By the emotion. She felt a surge of tears. Stroke his hair, his back. Fingers sliding under his shirt. "Oh John."

He heard her sorrow, lifted to view her teary face. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, tasting her tears. Drinking them in as if he could swallow her sorrow, her fears. "Moira? Sweetheart? What is it?" He slid out of her.

"John...you...that wasn't, that wasn't goodbye sex, was it? You're leaving me, aren't you?"

"What? Hell, no! Moira." He kissed her again. Stroked her cheek. "Damn it, Moira, I'm not leaving you. You are mine now. In every way." He kissed her again. "Baby, that was our first married sex, and it was pretty damn good. So don't you think I'm ever leaving you or any other nonsense."

"But you, you–"

He sighed. "Trust me, sweetheart. Would you just trust me? For a little while this is ours. Okay? Just ours. The two of us."

"I'm sorry, John. I...the past, the past, the..."

"I don't care what those fucking few, few men of yours did to you, Moira. I'm not them. I'm yours now. That's all that matters."

"Okay, John."

He kissed her. "Please, Moira. Trust me on this. I need this."

"Okay, John."

He smiled. Settled upon her comfortably. "So fucking sweet," he muttered. Shifted. Shifted again. Heard her soft gasp as she moved. He smiled lazily, lifted his head to view her. "Hmm...like that, do you? Right there, baby, huh?"

She kissed him as he moved. "John? You...oh my, colonel! Your ordnance is becoming so hard. Again! How do you–"

"You. So fucking sweet." He slid down her body. Mouth moving along her bare thigh. Crossing to taste more intimate areas when she gasped.

"John! No, no, I'll be too loud! John, oh John!" she whimpered as his mouth teased, tormented. Making her tremble, quiver.

He freed her. Slid up only to thrust inside her. Groan. "Moira, my Moira. Fuck!"

"Ssh, sweetie!"

"No sweetie during sex," he reminded. "Tighter. Tighter, baby."

Moira cried out as he began to move faster, faster. Rocking the bed wildly. The springs squeaking in an odd cacophony to their moans and escalating sighs. A knock on the door made her freeze. Tense. Clench so exquisitely over him he thrust hard, grunted deeply. "Ssh!" she warned. "Um, yes?" she called awkwardly. John still inside her. Hard. Shifting. His body pressed to hers. Poised on the brink of release.

"Doctor O'Meara, have you seen Colonel Sheppard?" asked a voice.

"I...um..." She frowned as John quietly laughed into her hair. "John!" she scolded in a harsh whisper. Replied loudly, "No. I haven't seen him for hours." She smiled as John glowered. Realizing what she was doing. The sounds of their sexual intercourse unmistakable. "I have no idea where he is," she added breathlessly.

John's gaze narrowed. He caught her wrists. Pinned them to either side of her head. Slid out only to thrust inside her. "Right fucking here," he snarled. Voice low, slithering along her skin, along her body. A tone of pure possessiveness. She gasped.

"Are you all right, doctor?" asked the voice beyond the door.

"Yes! I'm fine, fine, fine," she called as she squirmed. John's motions all but impossible to keep from her voice. "John!" she whispered harshly.

"No. One. Gets. Between. Us." He punctuated each terse word with a rough thrust. Deeper. Harder. Grunting as annoyance and passion collided. Moira found herself writhing, lifting to take all of his hard length as he began to move faster, faster. Her knees bent, her back arched. Arms still pinned to the bed as he held her down, kept her beneath him.

"Damn it, John, cut it out!" she scolded, but arched, whimpered as he pounded her into the cot. Rushing them both as the bed squeaked and rocked noisily. "John, oh John! John!" Her voice a frail, stuttering whimper as the pulsing climax burst within her.

John groaned loudly, not caring. Not anymore as the orgasm hit him. Release from the straining, the interruption, the holding back. He ignored her protests, lost himself in the sexual moment. The dominance, the submission. The friction building, building to an abrupt release. Spurting messily inside her. A long exhale of pleasure, passion. Then he fell upon her. Sated. He freed her wrists.

"John! Damn it, John!" she scolded, squirming but could not move under his weight.

"Ah fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck that is so fucking sweet! So fucking tight! So–"

Moira covered his mouth with her hand. "John! Be quiet and stop swearing so damn much!"

He kissed her hand. Laughed. Kissed her passionately. He freed her. Settled. "It doesn't matter, baby. I just had sex with Moira Sheppard. Exuberant sex."

"It does matter! No one knows I'm Moira Sheppard!" she scolded, but a grin stole across her face.

He smiled. "It doesn't, sweetheart. We're still lovers, right? Although now because of your little joke they'll all be wondering who just fucked you into the wall!" he scolded.

"I'm sure they heard me call your name, sweetie," she retaliated. "Oh John. Oh John Anderson!" she deliberately bated.

He frowned. "That's it!" He rolled off her.

"John? John, I was just–" she began worriedly, wondering if she had pushed him too far. He was irritated. But so damn sexy that way she couldn't help herself. Wanting him pissed to turn that into vivid passion.

He glowered, but smiled. A sly, wicked smile that made his brilliant green eyes sparkle. He rolled her onto her stomach. Swatted her rear. "There, you naughty girl!"

"John! You can't–" she protested, scrambling but he held her down again.

"I can. And I will. Pert little ass!" He swatted, squeezed, swatted.

Moira scrambled wildly, gasping, whimpering with each spanking, with each squeezing. "John!" she cried out as he grabbed, spanked hard, squeezed tightly. She slid up the cot, head nearly hitting the wall. Felt him shoving her thighs apart. "John!"

"Pert little ass," he growled. Yanked her up onto her knees. Pushed her gently to the wall. "Pert little pussy," he whispered hotly in her ear. Thrust into her before she could move, or protest.

Moira whimpered, moaned, hands scrambling for purchase, any purchase as he pulled her out some, angling her for a better position. Thrusting hard now, but careful not to hurt her. Sliding in and out as she flooded, sobbed. Pleasure riding, riding them both. As if she was a banquet and he fully intended to savor every course, every dish on the menu. Rocking her now, rocking the bed in a crazy, wild uneven bouncing. The springs squeaking loudly.

"How's that, baby? Who's in your sweet center now? Say it! Scream it!" he ordered. Hands sliding from her breasts to her hips to guide her, haul her onto him. Take all of him. Faster.

"John! John oh John!" Moira gasped, orgasms flowering wildly. All over as shifted yet again. She splayed her hands on the wall so she didn't fly into it. Enjoying the aggressive sex as much as he was, although she would never admit it. Having goaded him to this possessive passion.

"Say it!" he ordered. "Fuck, fuck, fucking sweet!" he exulted.

"John! Oh John! John Sheppard! John Sheppard!" she cried, voice rising, falling as the climax took her, propelled her helplessly. Body straining, then relaxing as the wave broke at last. He kissed her shoulder, hauling her upright as he groaned, swore, shuddered. The last of his energy spurting inside her.

He pushed her to the wall. Leaned on her as he slid out. "Fuck. Fuck, Moira! The things you do to me. Moira. Moira Sheppard. And wait, who just fucked you to oblivion again? Who?"

"John. John Sheppard," she replied. Catching her breath. Moving. He collapsed onto the bed. Breathing deeply. Moira snuggled up next to him. Kissed him. Light, gentle kisses over and over. As he relaxed. "John Sheppard," she said into his ear. Gently bit. "Just fucked himself into oblivion too, right?"

He weakly laughed. "Yeah. Fuck."

"John, no kinky on the Daedalus," she warned.

He smirked at her prim tone. As her half-naked body was pressed to his. As the sex hovered in the air. Palpable. He kissed her. "Shit. We better find a more secure twenty for exuberance. Hmm..."

"No, sweetie. No more sex until we reach Atlantis."

He sighed. "We'll see." He met her gaze. "Remember, this is ours. All ours. Privacy." He touched her left hand. The two rings. "Just you. Me. All right?"

"Fine," she grumbled. Sighed. But smiled. "I bet I wouldn't have all this complications with John...Anderson."

He frowned as she softly laughed. But smiled. Caught her and rolled her onto her back. "Maybe not, but you sure as hell wouldn't have this!"

"Oh! John Sheppard!"


John waited on the bridge of the Daedalus. Watched the city loom larger in the viewport. He was oddly nervous. Switching his bag from one shoulder to the other. He looked over as Moira joined him. Carrying her bags. Silently she raised her left hand to show him the absence of the two rings. He nodded. Saw her disgruntlement. Ignored it. "Go." He took one of her bags, led her through the ship as it smoothly landed. "There will be eyes on us, Moira. Reveal no intel. For now. Moira?"

"Whatever, John," she sighed. Frowned.

"You seem unsatisfied, Moira. Frustrated. It's been a long three weeks, hasn't it? Even after that spectacular first married day and night we had, huh? Talk about a fucking honeymoon!" He laughed proudly. "Still...three weeks after that. I bet you didn't even need a spare, did you?" he teased.

"Shut up, John. And it's only been two, well, two and a half. I thought you would need that much time to recover, sweetie. I didn't think you'd be able to get it up before now."

"Well, you thought wrong, baby. And you'll learn that soon enough, I promise. Of course, that all depends."

"Depends on what?"

He waited until they were alone again, striding towards the hatchway. "Tell me, baby, did you, um, self-deploy during those long, lonely nights?"

"Not as often as you, colonel, I'm sure! Besides, that's on a need to know basis."

He laughed. "Oh Moira, I need to know. I really, really need to know."

"That's classified, colonel."

"You're under my purview, doctor. So I need to know. In detail."

"I don't think that's proper military procedure. And I haven't been under your purview in weeks."

"Who wants to be proper? We certainly won't be tonight, when you will be under my purview repeatedly. Here we go." He led her into the city. Paused for a second. Elizabeth Weir was already heading for him. Rodney McKay and Carson Beckett were standing together, quietly talking. Watching.

"Give." Moira took her bag from him. Her fingers brushed his a moment. A whisper of a caress. He met her gaze. Smiled.

He took a step closer to her. "Moira Sheppard," he whispered. Smiled as she smiled, grinned. Looked down to hide it. "Moira," he complained, pouting.

"Sorry, John." She shrugged. "Don't say it," she whispered .

"Go." He turned, expression schooled to a neutral one as their friends advanced.

Carson smiled. "You owe me five dollars."

"What? Why?" Rodney asked. "I saw no evidence that he proposed."

"But I saw it. He did." Carson's Scottish voice was full of smugness. Of enjoyment.

"No, he didn't! They acted normal! You can't tell by one innocuous touch! One look! I didn't see a ring on her finger!"

"Nevertheless he did. So pay up."

"No. And to prove you are wrong I will ask him!"

"Go right ahead. I'll go ask Moira. And you will pay me."