Extinction Event8
John smiled. Amused and pissed and aroused all at once. "Is that so, baby?" he asked. He stepped closer. Closer. Making her back into the console. His body almost brushing against hers. His brilliant green gaze locked with hers. Challenging.
"Yes," she said simply, trapped between the console and him. Gaze locked with his. Defiant. Angry. Aroused.
He smiled. "I believe that, sweetheart. You really don't like the sex talk?" he asked quietly. A trace of disappointment in his voice. On his handsome face. A pout was forming.
She sighed. "I do like the sex talk, sweetie, but in context. And not so damn graphic all the time. And certainly not on an open channel. Ah!" She pointed, brown eyes lighting up as if she had won a prize.
John shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Ah? What ah?"
She smiled. "That's it, isn't it?" She tapped his chest with her finger.
He frowned at her triumphant expression. "What's it? Oh, that stuff with Weir? I'm sure she knows we are having sex here, Moira. Lots of–"
"No, but I didn't appreciate you blathering on about it like that."
"Blathering?" he wondered, but she continued.
"It's what I said, isn't it? On the open channel? For crying out loud, John! That upset you? We are married, and as you love to tell apparently everyone, having lots of sex."
"What did you say?" he asked, puzzled.
She rolled her eyes, shook her head. "Oh please! Like you don't remember? I can't believe you would be upset over that!"
"Over what?" he asked, patience wearing thin.
"It's all right for you to broadcast our, our repeated sexual intercourse but I blurt out that I love you on an open channel you lose it?"
"Oh," he realized. "That."
"Oh? That?" she mocked. "What? No, oh it wasn't that, Moira? No, of course everyone knows you love me, Moira? No, I don't know why that bothers me, Moira?"
"No."
"But that's it, isn't it?" She turned away from him to slide her laptop back into her pack. "Would you prefer it if I didn't say I love you in public? Then stop talking about our sex life in public!"
He smirked, trying not to laugh. "Okay, Moy."
"Fuck you, John."
"Now? Okay, Moy."
"Why did that upset you? And don't you dare tell me it didn't because I know it did." She turned back to face him. "Sweetie, it's not a secret. That I love you. I mean, we are married. We have lots of sex. Incredible, exuberant sex. And I am carrying your child now, John. So I think everyone knows that I love you."
He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable again under her probing, brown gaze. "Well, obviously, Moira. I mean, obviously." He touched her arm. Briefly glanced down at the baby bump. "Look, it's just...look, Moira...I'm not used to such, um, open displays of, of affection. You know? You...you're the first to be so...um..."
"Exuberant?" she asked, charmed by his hesitancy, his awkwardness.
"Yes. No. I mean...openly affectionate...you remember how it was? When we were first dating? Discretion. I'm used to that, not this. Not all of this...um...emotion. Except in private, I mean. You. Me. I mean, you know I'm not..." He sighed. She was silent, waiting. Gaze serious, gentle as he almost shyly met hers. "Moira. You know. You know I love you. You know you are everything to me. Why the hell do I keep having to say it?" he flared.
Moira smiled. Brushed his lips with hers. "I...I don't know, John. I just...I just need to hear it. I didn't think it would upset you when I say I love you. When other people hear me say it. So I won't. Say it." She ran her fingers along his chest, gaze lowering as a wave of tears flooded. "Is that what you want? I can't help it, John. Especially now when all my hormones are out of whack and I veer from one emotion to the next! I can't help being overly emotional and displaying affection! I love you, John! I love you so much, so much and you can't, you just can't understand how much I...you don't know how much! You don't know! I bet, I bet that Nancy wasn't like this, was she? All, all emotional and, and exuberant! Loving you, wanting you, more than, more than anyone. More than, more than James..." she whispered. "Damn it, John, will you stop me before I–"
John tilted her face up to his. Kissed her. A long, deep kiss. Tongue thrusting into her mouth as he pulled her against him. Reaching down to grab her rear. To squeeze. Kiss after kiss. Passionate, long, deep kisses. A little sloppy, a little rough until she murmured, whimpering in her throat. Fingers clutching for a different reason now. Body pressing along his. Breathless, moaning until he broke free to breathe. To gauge her reactions. "Better, baby?"
She relaxed her hold on him. Took a step back as she had been practically grinding her cleft against his crotch. "Um, yes, sweetie. Thank you." She sighed. "Sorry. You must hate all this wild emotional shit."
He smiled. "No. I love this part. I love you. All of you." He kissed her. "As exhausting as that is, at times. My Moira. For the record, no."
"What?" Moira was staring at him. Lost in his brilliant green eyes, full of warmth and concern. Desire. His handsome face. His kisses warm, moist phantoms on her lips. Soft echoes of his passion. The imprint of that perfect Cupid's bow, the teasing tickling of his tongue in her mouth. His body so close to hers, nearly touching again. His hands still on her rear, gently clasping.
John smiled at her dreamy expression. All that love for him washing over him from her eyes. "Your question. About Nancy. No. Not like you, sweetheart, not at all. And apparently I'm not like James either?"
"No...not at all..."she softly answered, sobering.
"Hmm." He kissed her again.
"John? Have I ruined the honeymoon?"
"No, Moira. But you do know what will make it all better, don't you, baby?" He kissed her again.
Moira squirmed as he squeezed her rear. She murmured as he abruptly lifted her onto the console. It flared to life. He freed her rear to shove her thighs apart. To step between them. To capture her mouth with his again. "John? Oh John, John," she marveled between kisses.
"I want you, Moira. Fuck I want you all of the damn time. I want all that love for me." The power flared all at once. Noisily whining and humming. Screens lit with scrolling data. Moira gasped in surprise, grabbing onto John. He lifted her off the console, set her down gently. "Shit! Hey, Moy, do you think we could implode the ZPM if we had sex on this thing?"
She laughed. "I think we could, sweetie. Damn!" She hugged him. "I love...oops! I um, I really like you."
He laughed. "I really like you too, Moira. A lot. Let's go steady." He kissed her. He freed her, turned. "Get your stuff. I'm going to check the perimeter, then we can leave. Stay here."
"Okay." She moved to grab her pack as John strolled out of the lab. P90 in his hands. Moira dug around in the pack, found a chocolate bar. She smiled, ate it. Waiting. She moved to the open doorway. The mist was becoming heavier, not quite solidifying into rain. A fog was creeping across the ground. Weaving among the overgrowth, among the dilapidated building. The air felt damp. Humid. She suddenly noticed the silence. The silence beyond the fog. No bird songs. No animal noises. No insects buzzing. She tensed. "John?"
Gunfire erupted. A loud cacophony of bursts rending the air. Followed by a piercing screeching sound that Moira knew only too well. "Moira!" John called, his voice echoing in the fog. "Hold your twenty! I'm coming to you!" More gunfire. Moira backed into the doorway, searching the fog but could see nothing.
John knelt, firing his weapon. Scattering the group of creatures. They were shorter, more primitive than the Wraith. Composed of Iratus bug and proto-human DNA they were an aberration. A side branch of evolution that John found repulsive. Repellent. He stood. "Get off my ship!" he growled, running and circling the Jumper. The creatures were crawling all over it. Mindless scrambling or searching for a way in he didn't know. Didn't care. He shot, wincing at the high-pitched squealing. He ran towards the lab. "Moira!"
Moira saw a bobbing light. Did not move. Finally saw John emerge out of the fog, a dark figure running towards her. She ran to him. "John! The–"
"Stay close to me! Damn things were swarming the ship! Bad as mynocks!" he jested, whirled. Fired his gun. Bullets sprayed the ground, the fog. The sub-Wraith approaching. "Go, go!" Moira ran, pack bouncing on her back. John followed on her heels. The squealing increased. "Down!"
Moira dropped to her knees. John fired above her, hunching over her. Sub-Wraith fell back, chittering. Blood spurted, crimson arcs against the gray fog.
"Go, go!" he urged, pulling her to her feet.
Moira ran to the Jumper. Opened the hatch and flew into it. Whirled as John followed on her heels. He shut the hatch. She dropped her pack and ran to the co-pilot's seat. Touched the controls. The power flared brightly, zooming so strongly the ship began to lift off the ground. "John!"
"Shit, whoa!" He set down the gun, moved swiftly to the pilot's seat. "I'm the pilot here, baby," he noted. "Shielding. This will get them!" He applied a static burst. Squeaking sub-Wraith fell off the vehicle. Moira cried out as one hit the viewport. Arthropod and human features merging in a hideous face. It slid messily down and off the ship.
"Big bug," John commented, spinning the ship around. "Look, Moy! Look how many!"
Moira stared at the ground. It was teeming with life. With sub-Wraith. Swarms of the creatures that kept multiplying as they emerged from the fog, from the trees. From burrows in the ground. "My God! There's...there's at least forty, fifty...more! How?"
"Hold on! Powering weapons."
"John?"
"Fucking things! Call it revenge for your foot." He fired on them. Darts annihilating whole waves of them, reducing the creatures to shattered bits of bone and gore.
Moira winced at the carnage. Flexing her scarred foot in memory. Horror. "John! We're safe! You don't have to–"
"I do! These things are an abomination!" he said through gritted teeth. Fired again. "More bug than Wraith, even." He felt a grim satisfaction as yet another wave were shot into bits, pulverized into the ground. He couldn't hear their screams or screeches but felt them in his ears. A weird vibration that made him feel a touch of vertigo.
"They're an evolutionary progression of–"
"What? You're telling me those things are a natural product of evolution? Hell no!" He fired once more, then veered left and accelerated. "God I hate those things! What they did to you! Your foot! That horrible creature that was growing in your foot, Moira! It's mutations, the rapid growth...what it tried to do to me in those caves..." He took a deep breath, calming himself. Drowning the pulse of fearsome memory. He glanced at her. "Sorry. Sorry, sweetheart. I guess this honeymoon is over. Let's go home."
Moira nodded, too stunned to speak. Feeling a shiver despite the humidity. The cloying fog. The utter ruthless slaughter. Water sparkled in her hair, on her skin, her clothes. "Okay, John." She looked away, hands clasped over the baby bump.
He smiled. "It wouldn't be a mission without some B-grade horror monster, now would it?" he jested. Flew to the Stargate. "Dial, please."
She did so. "We, we should have taken a, a sample or–"
"Hell no."
"They seemed more advanced then the last time. Greater numbers. They were, were working in tandem. Knew to attack the ship, not just us. How do you explain that?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
"John! We–"
"No. No way are we going back there. Relax, Moira. We'll be home in no time." He flew into the event horizon. Guided the vehicle out of the 'Gate room and into the Jumper bay. He landed smoothly. Sat back, relaxing his grip on the controls. Licked his lips. "Sorry. I hate those things. I really, really hate those things." He looked at her.
Moira was holding the shirt closed over her. "Understandable, John. I'm not too fond of them either. But their development of primitive social interaction suggests a–"
"Don't care. You're safe now. John junior is safe. That's all that matters. That's all I care about." He stood. Touched her shoulder. "Let's go. I don't know about you but I am beat." He moved to the back of the ship. Grabbed his pack, the guitar. The basket. "Moira?"
She joined him, grabbing her pack. "This is important, John. If they are developing at a faster rate than their pre-human hosts could be–"
"I told you. Don't care." He opened the hatch. Closed it suddenly. "Shit."
"What is it?"
He turned to her. Set down all that he held. "Could be what?"
