Mutability10
"John Sheppard!"
Moira's strident voice made John nearly swallow the nail clenched between his teeth. He dropped a hammer. It clattered to the floor. He spit out the nail, held the side of the crib with one hand as the other grabbed the iron brace. "Shit! Moira!" He looked over his shoulder at her, irate.
Moira stood in the doorway between the two rooms as she held the baby. She was staring at John. He was crouched by the half-completed crib. He had changed into a red and black flannel shirt, open at the neck and giving tantalizing glimpses of his chest hair. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A black pair of jeans were snug on his rear. He hadn't bothered to shave that morning, despite almost going on a mission, and a shadow of stubble lined his jaw. It made him look dangerous, sexy.
John smiled slowly, seeing her reaction. Enjoying it. Enjoying the effect he still had on her. He let his gaze peruse her black woven shirt, her blue jeans. The baby was clad in a red t-shirt and jeans, mirroring his father. Staring at him with a gurgling smile. "Well? I know, I know," he sighed, "sometimes I amaze even myself. It must be hard, Moira, being married to a gorgeous guy like me. Having to gaze upon this perfection every day."
She smirked. "Hilarious, John! I was more amazed by the fact that you are finally putting the crib together."
He scowled playfully. "Hilarious, Moira! Hey, captain, don't you start." The baby was grinning at him. "So tell me, Moy... is it hard?" His brilliant green eyes sparkled.
She smiled. "You tell me, sweetie. Is it? Hard? Rock hard? Aching in your jeans, or throbbing against your zipper now?" She frowned. "Stop distracting me, damn it! What the hell are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "I'm attempting to build a crib. Unfortunately the instructions are in Korean. I'm not kidding! I've seen technical manuals about X302s that were easier to understand."
"Poor Mensa boy. I knew I should have asked Rodney to–"
"Hell no. My son. My crib to build. Oh...and yes, by the way."
"Yes, what?"
He grinned. "It's getting hard after your words, baby, but I need more than words to make it aching or throbbing for your sweetness."
"John! You're supposed to be on a mission!" she retorted, returning to her anger.
"I am on a mission, Moira. This. Now unless you or the captain there have a beer for me get out and let me work." He turned back, lifting the hammer. The baby chortled happily.
"John! John! You're supposed to be on a mission!" Moira repeated. "Rodney said you were supposed to go to MRX432 but you sent another team! John! Get that fine, fine six of yours to MRX432! I don't want you to stay here, John! You said you'd go on the next mission! You said! I won't ask you to stay, John! I didn't ask you to stay!"
"I decided to stay," he retorted calmly to her upset tone. "I'm not going. I'm busy here. Don't upset yourself or Johnny." He hammered the brace support. "This damn thing was missing some pieces so I had to improvise. But it is perfectly safe, I promise. Only the best for my son."
"John!" She walked over to him, baby fussing until she kissed him. "Ssh, darling. It's all right. Please, John. I can't let you do this! I won't! John, you have to–"
"Finish this. I'll go on the next one, Moy, but only after this is done and Johnny is settled here." He leaned over, so far his shirt rode up as he extended his arms, giving Moira a view of his bare skin. A flash of red boxers before he scooted out and straightened.
She smirked. "Red, John?"
He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, baby. I anticipate coitus after I finish this. I'm thinking wall. Your rough and ready soldier who seduces the prim and proper paleozoologist. Then Sheppard's delight." He flashed a wicked grin, lifted his brows. Resumed working.
"John, you...no. John! You can't do this!"
"I'm halfway finished, Moy. I can get this up and running in no time."
"No, not the crib! The mission! We have to talk about this! Look, I'll go to Weir and take the flak like I should have in the first place! It's all my fault anyway and then you can go to–"
John stood, pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her. So passionately Moira almost dropped the baby. John pulled back, kissed the baby's cheek. The infant gurgled. But grew serious, little hand touching his father's scruffy jaw. John smiled. "Soon, captain, you'll be able to grow a beard too." He winked. "Just this hint is enough to drive the women wild, though."
Moira laughed. "John! That is so sexy, sweetie. John, you–"
"No. It's done. Handled. Now get that perfect pert little ass out of here so I can finish this. But leave junior." He took the baby from her. "It's a guy thing, Moira. He can take a test flight. Scoot! Or at the very least get me a beer."
She sighed. "Fine. But we still need to–"
"Have sex, yes, it's on the agenda, believe me. Now go!"
She kissed him. Kissed the baby. "Fine. I'll just be in the other room if you–"
"Go do something sciency, will you? Go!" John watched her leave. "Let me tell you, son, that is the sweetest pert little ass in two galaxies, I swear!"
"John!" she scolded. He laughed.
An assortment of noises filled the air as Moira sat at the table, trying to work but instead brooding on her husband's recent actions. And his flirtations. The sounds of a hammer. An iron clanging. Wood slamming. A baby's chortling. John's swearing before catching himself and changing the words to less objectionable ones. Silence fell. Hearing the baby's giggles and John's laughter she moved to the doorway.
John was lifting his son high into the air, turning him slowly, then dipping him down. "Fly, junior, fly! Here we go, captain! C aptain Sheppard junior to the rescue!" He lifted him again. Blew a raspberry on his son's tummy. The baby giggled in delight. John gently moved him through the air, making plane noises. "All right, captain! Time for a landing! Easy does it!" The baby gurgled, prattled loudly. John smiled, kissed the baby's brow. "Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, you do sound like McKay." He adjusted the mattress, the blankets. Set the baby into the crib. He screwed in the mobile. "Johnny! Look at this!" He wound the toy. Music played. The baby stared, reaching and smiling. "Now this," John touched one of the hanging aircraft on it, "is an F-302. This is an Apache Blackhawk helicopter. Like I used to fly. This is a..." He turned, saw Moira's warm gaze. "What?"
"Oh John..." She moved to him, touched his arm. Kissed him. "You are so wonderful with him!" she gushed.
"Well," he shrugged, embarrassed, "he is my son, Moy."
She looked at the crib. Touched it. Shook it gently. "Will this hold?"
"What? Of course it will hold, I made damn sure the...oh, hilarious, Moira! I wouldn't put him in it otherwise. I still need to attach Rodney's sound machine, then he'll be sorted. That just leaves you to sort. Repeatedly."
She leaned down, kissed the baby. "Is that so, Johnny?"
The baby cooed, catching her fingers as she touched him. Began to fuss. Moira straightened, winced. Touched her breasts. "Sweetheart?" John asked.
"He's right. Time to unload." She lifted the baby, frowned at John's smirk. "It's not funny, colonel! You try carrying a full load!"
"Baby, I am always carrying a full load!"
She laughed, elbowed him. "Hilarious, sweetie! Come on, darling." She carried the baby into their room. John laughed, adjusted the mobile. Cleared up his tools. Glanced over his shoulder to make sure Moira had gone. He roughly shook the crib, just to be certain. Satisfied he smiled. Listened to the noisy suckling of his son. "Hey, Moy," he called, "we still need to move the rest of my stuff out of here and into there."
"You need," she corrected, feeding the baby as she sat on the bed.
"Oh? Is that how it is?"
"Yes. I'm a little busy here, John."
"Are you? It seems to be you're just sitting on that pert little ass while my son does all the work," he teased.
"Hilarious, John!"
He laughed. "Lucky captain." He moved some boxes aside. "We need to unpack all of this."
"You need," she repeated, burping the baby over her shoulder.
"Cute. Very." He waited, judging by the silence that the feeding and burping were finished. He entered their room, paused. The baby was in his cradle, cooing softly as Moira fussed over him.
A hand on her rear made her gasp, straighten. "John!"
He laughed, squeezing. "Who else, baby? Ah fuck, that is the sweetest little ass in–"
"Shut up!" She shoved him. "I have to um...um...stay here!" She moved to the bathroom.
John stared after her. She had unwound her braid, and her hair billowed in wavy locks around her. "Moy?" He heard a drawer open and close. Curious he moved to the bathroom. Stared.
Moira was rubbing lotion over her breasts, around, across the pink, swollen nipples. Looking down her hair veiled her face, her breasts. But hearing a soft noise she looked up at the mirror, startled. Saw John in the doorway, staring hard. A sensual gleam in his brilliant green eyes.
"John! John, I..." She covered her breasts, stared at him in the mirror. "It's not funny, John! All of this sucking has chaffed my nipples. Between you and your son..." She smiled. Licked her lips. Resumed rubbing the lotion, deliberately cupping her breasts, kneading the nipples to hardness. Knowing it would arouse the hell out of him. "Hmm...maybe I should try honey. It could gentle of that sucking. Or make it harder. What do you think, sweetie? Is it hard now? Is it unbearably hard now?"
He murmured, shifting his stance. Smiled s she turned to him. "You know it is, baby. Rock hard now. Fuck." He stepped to her. Drew her hands away to touch, caress. "So...no sucking? How is that, baby? Fuck, the girls are so beautiful."
She shifted under his low, husky voice. His gentle touches. "John...yes, no sucking...at the moment. I..."
He kissed her. "I'm sure I can f ind other places to suck," he teased into her ear. Nibbled her earlobe.
She murmured, hands sliding along his chest. "John, oh John..."
"Coitus, baby," he said against her skin. He kissed her throat. Freeing her breasts to undo her pants. Unzip. Fingers sliding to pry at her panties.
She squirmed. "John, you...you, John, we–"
He kissed her passionately, pulling her against him. She squirmed, feeling his erection even through his jeans. His tongue glided into her mouth. "So?" he asked, pulling back to gaze into her eyes. "Wall? Counter? Bed? Floor? Chair?"
She softly laughed. "Yes."
"Yes? All of them?"
She laughed at his expression. "No, sweetie!" She tilted her head. "Well..."
He laughed. "My Moira. So fucking sweet."
"Ssh, John! The baby–"
"Is asleep, so let's get it on, baby, full throttle coitus!"
"Ssh! We have to talk about the mission–"
"Missionary position? Fine by me, baby, as long I can get in there and ride you."
"John!" She laughed, playfully shoved him back to unbutton his shirt. She kissed him. Circled his ear and gently bit. He groaned, fingers still plying her damp panties. She squirmed, bit harder as he rubbed harder. Shoving his knuckles along her cleft. Moira whimpered as his fingers abruptly slid into the panties and aggressively plied her. "John! John!"
He kissed her. "Moira. I could fuck you like this, you know. I could get you off like this." He pulled his hand free. Yanked down her pants. She stepped out of them, hands running up his bare chest, flinging the shirt open. Nails running down to his waist to undo his belt. His pants. John abruptly moved to his knees and kissed up her naked thigh. He nibbled.
"John? You...oh God..."she moaned as he kissed her waist, her hip. Caught the panties in his teeth and pulled them down. Moira gasped. She pushed him onto his back. Pounced upon him, kissing him generously. Legs splayed on his groin. She gyrated on him, causing him to groan loudly, enjoyably.
"Ah, Moira! Floor it is, baby! I do love the acoustics in here," he teased.