Specialization8

John sprinted to the conference room, shoving his puzzlement over Moira aside. He slowed to stroll into the room. Took his seat as Jason paused, then resumed talking as John nodded. He met Elizabeth's irritated gaze, said nothing. Fiddled with the data screen in front of him and glanced at Carson who was dutifully listening. Scrutinizing the marine as if he were a specimen on a slide. Something to be examined. Studied. Dissected.

"When we came to," Jason continued, "as I said yesterday, the thing was gone. So was Jacobs. It took some time for everyone to wake up from whatever that thing had done to us. Last I saw it was...it was the size of a small child. We were just heading out to search for Jacobs when Colonel Sheppard contacted me. That's all I can remember, I'm afraid."

"Is there some problem?" John asked, tensing. Sitting straight in the chair. "We went over all of this yesterday. Why are we going through it today?"

"Some clarification, John. Where have you been? I've been paging you on the comm, on the PA system...where have you been?" Elizabeth asked.

John shrugged. "Sorry. What sort of clarifications?"

"About the creature," Elizabeth informed.

"It was a unique life form, a true–" Carson began.

"Am amalgamation of several different species," John interrupted the doctor tersely, using Moira's words. "It doesn't really matter now because it's dead," he said flatly. John pointed. "It should have been dead days ago when it was a grub! Next time I decide to kill something I am going to kill it and no one, I mean no one is going to stop me."

"I'm sorry, John. I'll take the blame, as will Moira. We both were–"

"Not Moira," John spit out the words.

"Intrigued and dare I say it, enraptured by the thing," Carson continued as if John hadn't spoken, "but no one could have predicted the rapid cellular development. Or the undue influence it had on our minds. Tell me, colonel, what exactly was it doing in that cave? Would you like to elucidate that?"

John frowned. "I told you. It fed. It attacked. I killed it. End of story." His voice was low, sharp. He stood. "As of now I will be instituting new security protocols in the event of a reoccurrence. Just in case you've forgotten I was the one, and my men who risked our lives to get that thing out of the city before it could become a danger. Next time I will not allow the situation to go that far."

"John, I agree the situation could have become a potentially lethal–"

"Potentially?" he asked, meeting Elizabeth's gaze. "One of my men is dead, Elizabeth! Any and all research into these things will now be directed under my purview as military commander of Atlantis! As of now any Wraith research goes through me. Got it? Any foreign biologicals will be immediately transported to the Alpha site."

"Now colonel," Carson chastised, "that is going a bit too far."

"I don't think so. Reynolds, dismissed."

"John," Elizabeth resumed after the marine departed, "I understand your concerns, I do. We have to judge this on a case by case situation. I know it was horrendous but you–"

"You have no idea, Elizabeth." His gaze swung to Carson. "Did you actually see this thing you nurtured?"

"I got a glimpse before it–"

"Then you have no idea either! Horrendous doesn't begin to cover it. It was a true amalgamation of Wraith and human, bug and mammal. A pure mishmash of body parts and features. And all ferocity. All lethal. You didn't see what it did to Jacobs. I did. Moira saw the aftermath, and that creature." His voice was calm but he felt a slight shiver course along his body. The memories rising but he forced them down.

"And what did it do to Jacobs? In the cave. To you and to Moira?" Carson asked.

John tensed, hands tightening on the back of the chair. "Brutal doesn't cover it either. Now, if you'll excuse me I'll go draw up the new security regulations. To be effective immediately."

"John! You need to tell us what–"

"No!" He pointed. "I don't need to tell you a damn thing, Beckett!" he snarled. Gaze like ice as he glared. "It's dead! It's over!" He strode out of the room. Hand sliding down to feel the weight of the gun at his thigh.


Moira sat at the table in her room. She was reviewing the footage of the dire wolves again, foot propped up on the opposite chair. Her mind drifted from the digital images to John. The incredibly loving sex despite the interruptions. His interrupted declarations. She sighed, bit her lower lip in consternation. Uncertain. Afraid she had let things go too far, go way out of control. A quiet knock on the door broke her worry. "Come–" she started, but the door was opening.

"In?" John asked, entering. He closed the door. He walked over to her, data pad in one hand, a pair of beer bottles in the other. He set the data pad down, the beers. Caught her foot before she could move it. Sat and placed it in his lap.

"That bad?" she asked, as he opened a beer. Took a long sip. Offered it to her. She shook her head.

"Bad enough," he admitted.

She moved her foot in his lap, making him smile. "What happened?"

He sighed. "We had to talk about that thing. Again! I lost my temper. Nothing specific...just...Carson knows or suspects what happened in that cave." He opened the data pad, typed on the keyboard.

"He has an inkling. Nothing exact. But I'm sure he knows what the thing was, um, doing. Intending to do." She watched him, moved her foot off but he pulled it gently back. Met her concerned gaze.

"Oh. It's like, it's like he wants me to tell him. Exactly what happened. I won't, Moira."

"All right, John. Nor will I. Don't you worry."

"I'm not worried. I'm pissed," he admitted. Drank. "I need to work on these new protocols. So this shit doesn't happen again."

"Okay."

He smiled. "See? You have no problem with me doing this, do you? But they were challenging me even on this!"

"They shouldn't. You and your men had to risk your lives to get it to the Alpha site."

"Yeah, that's what I said," he agreed.

"And it was all because of Carson and me," she mourned.

"No, honey, not you," he soothed. Stroked her leg.

"Yes, John, me. We got so locked up in the science and discovery we couldn't see the big picture. You did. So you need to put those protocols in place."

He smiled. "I'd kiss you now if your foot wasn't making me so happy."

She smiled. "Hilarious, John. Get to work, colonel."

"On this? Or on testing various positioning?" he teased.

She smirked. "Behave, colonel. Relax. Drink your beer."

He did so. Relaxing in her company, her care. Her love. He began to work on the data pad. Moira closed hers, chin in hand, watching him. His disordered hair falling along his forehead. His serious expression. The stubble shadowing his jaw. Eyelashes shadowing his eyes as they were focused on the screen. Full, luscious lips pursed as he thought. Typed. Broad shoulders still tensed. She moved her foot off his lap, stood. Limped to stand behind him. Ran her hands on his shoulders, neck. Began to massage. Ran her mouth along his throat. "Relax, John. Is this better, colonel?"

"Hmm...much. Although I miss your foot in my lap," he complained. Her fingers working the bunched muscles. The stress melting away under her care. Concern. Love.

"Hmm...would you prefer my pert little ass?" she teased into his ear, gently nibbled.

"God, yes!" He scooted back. She laughed at his eagerness. Seated herself. "No. Face the screen," he suggested with a sly smile.

She frowned, but did so. Straddling his thighs, wiggling her rear on his lap as she faced the screen. She scooted. Gyrated to get comfortable. He sighed happily. "Better, colonel?" she teased as his arms went round her to the keyboard.

John leaned close, kissed her throat. "Much. Hey, you type for me." He slid his hands down along her thighs.

"What? Am I your secretary now, colonel?"

"Yes. Bounce that pert little ass and type, baby."

She laughed, gyrated until he moaned. "Yes, colonel." She touched the keyboard. "Well?"

"Huh? Oh...just a sec." He leaned closer to read over her shoulder. Slid his hands up under her shirt, up under her bra to cup her breasts.

"John..." she whispered, reacting as he fondled. He kissed down her throat, then up to her ear.

"Furthermore all unclassified biological entities are to be considered under threat assessment protocols as outlined in...why aren't you typing, baby?"

"Oh...sorry, sweetie." She shifted on him. "Could you repeat that?"

He smiled. "Repeat what? This?" He kissed up to her ear. "Or this?" He fondled her breasts. Ran his tongue along her earlobe, behind it to make her whimper in her throat. Shift wildly on his lap. He ran his thumbs over the sensitive skin. Nipples puckering under his touch.

Moira moaned softly, becoming aroused as he did. "John...oh John...I can't type when you are doing these wonderful things to me," she gushed.

"With you," he corrected, voice low in her ear. "It's just as well because I can't remember what the hell I just said. Harder." He kissed down her throat as she rocked, rocked on him. Leaning slightly forward to feel him more intimately. His growing hardness pressing, pressing. She arched slightly as his hands kept fondling her breasts. Stroking. Teasing. Rough, calloused fingers dancing along her.

"John, oh John..." she whispered, moving across, back and forth. Feeling him lengthen, push against his pants in order to reach her.

"Ah, baby...God that feels so good," he wooed, hands sliding free to caress her hips. He slid one hand into her pants. To slide across her panties. To pry between her legs, feeling her eager readiness for him. "Damn, baby...I want you just like this," he encouraged, leaning back suddenly.

Moira gasped as his hardness poked, pushed at her. His fingers plying her underwear. Her hips shifting on him. "John, we, we can't. We can't..." she stammered, but his other hand was unbuttoning, unzipping her pants. Tugging them open. Down her hips.

"We have to, baby. I can't hold this forever," he noted gruffly. "Stand."

She did so. But stepped away awkwardly before he could pull down her pants. She leaned on the table. "John, we can't. If we're interrupted again–"

"We won't be. Moira, please," he said. Moved to her. Pulled her against him. Hands sliding up to her breasts again. She turned halfway to catch his mouth with hers. Again. Again. John glided his tongue to tease, to arouse. His hands sliding down to her hips. He yanked down her pants, panties. "Step." She stepped out of one leg awkwardly. He shoved the data pads out of the way. Pushed her gently onto the table. He pushed up her shirt. Ran kisses down her bare back. Slow, sloppy motions of his mouth.

Moira squirmed, off-balance. Half on the table, leaning over and up as his mouth moved down her back. Down her spine. She heard him unzipping his pants, and the sound alone made her tighten, made her flood in anticipation. His hands were on her hips, positioning her. His mouth gliding to her rear and she gasped, breathless. Moving. Lifting as he pushed her legs apart. He grasped, squeezed her rear. She whimpered as he entered her.

"You know the safe word, Moira, oh Moira oh Moira," he intoned quietly, beginning to thrust, thrust into her. Into that wet tightness he desired. He groaned, shifting again for a better angle. A better position to achieve maximum climax.

Moira gasped, moaned. Inarticulate sounds of pleasure burst from her lips. Shock making her gasp, blush. She held onto the table, pulling away but John pulled her back gently. Each thrust longer, deeper. Inducing the vibrations, the sexual pleasure. "John! Oh John, John, John," she breathed with each thrust. The table shook, shook.

John was groaning in his throat, coming in a strained rush. Mounting pleasure promising release. With each thrust, each penetration he came closer, closer. He leaned, kissing her back. Hand sliding to pull her out more, to slide along her thigh. To rub and rub the very front of her. He changed tempo, rhythm, moving faster. "Moira, my Moira...tighter, baby, tigher! Oh that's it! Fuck! Fuck!" he praised.

Moira tensed, scrambling as he seemed bigger, longer, harder. Thrusting to fill all of her. The sexual friction grew, grew between his thrusts and his fingers. It was an almost excruciating tension building. She gasped, murmured. Lost her breath. "John! Oh John, John! Please, please, please, oh John!" she stammered as his thrusts became faster, faster. Fingers probing hard. She felt herself melting, flooding. Rushing over the edge as a quivering sob escaped her lips as one orgasm, then another took her. She cried out, but he kept moving. As if he would never let her go. Never stop the sharp pleasure engulfing them.

John groaned loudly, straining. Arching into her as her every sound make him even harder, even more tense. His body demanding more of her. All of her. He couldn't get enough of the friction, the snug heat enveloping him. The table shook, shook. Finally he came. A spurting, throbbing rush incessantly pounding. "Moira! Oh Moira! Fuck, fuck, fuck! You are killing me, baby, fucking killing me!"

"Me?" she managed to squeak as he kept riding her. Riding her, shoving her up, up the table with his frenzied momentum. Until he hauled her back. "John! John, please!"she gasped, wincing as her foot protested the position, the pushing.

"Moira! Oh Moira, oh fuck!" he exclaimed in a husky voice. A final spasm sending him over the edge. He leaned on her a moment, exhausted. Drained. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Oh shit! Your foot! Is it all right? I should have thought to..." Her soft laugh made him pause. Smile. "What? What's so funny?"

She relaxed as he freed her. Collapsed back onto the chair. She straightened, eyes wide at her position. The way he had taken her. She moved to sit on his lap, straddling to face him. Kissed him, unbuttoning his shirt. Running her hands greedily along his chest. Fingers tugging at his chest hair. He ran his hands along her back, caressing. "You. Damn, John...so solicitous after that? After you gave me a double at that angle? And your cock still inside me?"

He smiled, kissed her. "Yes, Moira. I can't resist that pert little ass, you know that. I have to have it. All of it. Seriously, though, how is your foot?"

"Who cares?" She kissed him. Ran her mouth down his throat, nibbling. Fingers caressing his chest. She opened the shirt to kiss his shoulder. "Oh John! John..."she enthused dreamily.

He kissed her. Hands sliding to her hips. "Hmm, baby...I take it our positioning was good?"

"Very good, sweetie. As was your military thrust."

He grinned. "Very. Hold on."

"What? John!" she cried in surprise as he grabbed her. Stood. Carried her to the bed. "John?" He set her onto it. Pushed her onto her back and moved over her quickly. Trapping her.

"I need to rest after that, and you need to be off your foot. Ah, Moira...this day has been perfect."

"John, I know you want to test your ordnance and all but we keep having–"

"Sex, yes, that's how we test it, baby. With lots and lots...and lots of sex. Hot sex too."

"Ow."

He sat. "What? Is it your foot?"

"Bra. Stabbing me."

"Oh. Remove it." He leaned down to yank off his boots. "What was I saying? Oh yes. Lots. And lots. And lots." He turned to look at her. Frowned. Disappointed as her shirt was still on although she was sitting now. "I thought you were going to remove..." She held up the bra. "Oh. Well, I thought the shirt would be gone."

"Well, you thought wrong, flyboy." She set the bra aside, leaned back and over. "John!" she complained as his hand slid up her skin, under the shirt to clasp a breast.

"Open your shirt, baby. Those beauties shouldn't be concealed from me." He kissed her, moving her onto her back.

"No, John, you can't–"

He kissed her. Slid his hand out but began to unbutton her shirt. Ran his mouth down her throat. Then down as each button was opened. "Moira," he murmured.

She sighed, shifted. Fingers in his hair as he kissed down to her waist, her pants. Slid up to tongue each breast. Then settled comfortably upon her. Fingers lazily caressing one. "Are you kidding me, John?"

He quietly laughed. "Yes. I need a nap, baby. Then we can try another–"

"Shut up, John. God! Are you trying to kill me with orgasms?"

He laughed. "Hey, there are worse ways to go."

"I'm serious! We're having too much sex again! We need to slow it down, not speed it up! Damn it, John, we have to stop this! Look, I know you needed this because you wanted to test your ordnance and equipment, because you were mauled by that thing and you needed to reassert sexual dominance since that was momentarily taken from you, and because you enjoy lots and lots of sex but you don't have to do it all in one–"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute!" He lifted his head, eyed her. "Damn it, Moira, this is why we banned post-coital talking! Stop being the scientist and start being my lover!"

"John, your lover is a scientist whether you like it or not, and just because I can see what determines your behavior you don't have to get all–"

"And your lover is a colonel, is the military commander of Atlantis, baby. And true, I needed to make sure my ordnance and equipment weren't impaired. And yes, I wanted to have sex with you. I needed to take you repeatedly, and yes, I do enjoy lots and lots of sex."

"That's what I said! Geez, John, what's the problem?"

"The problem?" He laughed, shifted against her. "I have no problem. You're the one going on and on about it, baby, not me. We're not having too much sex."

"We are! John, we've had it three times today and it's not even four o'clock!"

He smiled, trying not to laugh. "Most women would be gushing over with gratitude, baby. And hey, we've got plenty of time to double that count."

"Oh shut up!" She hit his arm. "Get off me! I hate you! I hate your smug arrogance and your–"

"Let me guess, my sexual proficiency? How I make you want me all the fucking time? How every thought, every image, every sensation revolved around sex?" She stared, wide-eyed. "Yeah? Welcome to my world, baby."

"You...you?" she stammered. Frowned. "You mean devolves!"

He kissed her, settling again. "We need to take a nap, Moira. No more post-coital talking. Unless that was pre-coital talking?"

"Shut up. You are so–"

"Hush. God you wear me out. Sexually, which I quite enjoy. And then with all this melodrama. This emotional whirlwind you create just because you want me. Get over it. I want you just as much. Just as often. Well, probably more often. So enjoy it, baby, and we'll see where it takes us."

Moira frowned, irritated, but also amused. "You are a fantastic fuck, sweetie."

He smiled. "Damn right I am, baby. Now sleep."