Specialization11

Moira slowed halfway down the second hallway. "Wait!" She leaned on the wall, taking the weight off her injured foot. She checked her pockets.

"What is it? Moira, you need to go and see Carson."

"I did. Shit. I left my pills in the cafeteria. Help me to your room so I can get my, um, components."

He smiled. "Take my arm. Do I need to carry you?"

"No." She took hold, and he guided her carefully to his room. She limped to his bed. Sat. Stretched out her leg on the bed, resting her foot off the floor. She turned, frowned. "For crying out loud, John!" She snatched a pair of her panties hanging from the bedpost.

He laughed. "Sorry. I forgot about those."

"Sure you did! Where else?"

"Drawer." Before he could move she stood, limped to the dresser. Opened it. Pulled out a few more pairs. She dug around.

"Geez, John, you have more of my underwear than I do!"

He laughed. "Maybe so, baby."

"And they had better be all mine, flyboy! Where else?"

"Don't you worry, baby, they are all yours. I swear. Pants. Third."

She searched, found one stashed in a pocket of his gray pants. Scowled at his laughter. "God! You are such a kinky, perverted–"

"Yes. Yes, I am, baby. Huh, I forgot about those. Sorry."

She sighed, stuffing them into her pockets. She sat on the bed to rest her foot. "Anywhere else, sweetie? I'm almost afraid to ask."

He grinned. Pretended to think. "Hmm...no...I think that's it. No, wait. Under my pillow? No. Oh, I bet there's a pair in my TAC vest. And maybe in the bathroom..."

"Hilarious, John!" She laughed. "Give me a minute and I'll go get my–"

"No. You rest. I'll go get your pills." He moved to the door. "Hey, Moira, there could be a pair somewhere in the sheets. You know, for, um, those lonely, lonely nights. Or my jacket."

"Shut up! You are sick!"

He laughed. "I'm just trying to help." He left her, walked quickly to the cafeteria. Snatched the bottle of pills from the empty table. He eyed them a moment, strode to the infirmary. "Carson!" he called, standing near an empty bed.

Carson entered. "What is it, John? I just had dinner."

"Oh." He rattled the bottle of pills. "You just gave Moira these, right? They don't seem to be helping her much."

Carson looked at the vial. Then at John. "Yes. Despite her denials I noticed that too. I'll corner her tomorrow and check that foot again. John...are you absolutely certain nothing hurt her in that cave?"

"What?" John tensed. Grew very still.

"When you saved her. Moira told me what happened and I just want to make sure she wasn't injured in any way."

"She told you. What happened." The words were flat. Monotone.

"Yes. Look, she explained why you don't want to talk about it. So we won't. I didn't realize how horrible a monster the creature was. You mustn't blame yourself if an illusion caused Jacobs to become compliant and not fight the thing. If it prevented you from saving him in time. And being thrown across the cave must have disorientated you. I'm surprised you are not hurt worse, actually. I'm sure you did all that you could to save Jacobs. And thank God you caught Moira in time before she was dragged away by that thing! But are you sure she wasn't scratched or cut in any way? Anywhere?"

John was staring. He had been clutching the bottle of pills so tightly it almost broke. But hearing the story Moira had created he relaxed. Hearing the fiction of her rescue. Of his non-captivity. Of heroics he had been unable to perform. "Yeah. She's unharmed. Not a scratch."

"Good. Have her come see me tomorrow. I may have to give her another muscle relaxant."

"Okay. Thanks."


Moira sat, waiting. Impatient. Amused as she had found yet another pair in his jacket. She looked around his room, wondering where else to check. Eyed the Johnny Cash poster. The

table. She moved to her hands and knees on the floor, peering under the bed.

John entered, smirked, about to make a smart ass comment but his emotions caught him. Held him. What she had done for him. Continued to do.

Moira backed up, careful not to knock her head on the bedframe. "Ah ha! I knew it! I knew you had this pair!" She pulled out a skimpy, lacy violet pair of panties. Straightened suddenly. "John?"

He smiled. "Sorry, baby. I was captivated by that pert little ass wiggling in those tight, tight jeans," he smoothly recovered. "Here."

She sat on the bed as he neared. "Thanks. What took you so long? Oh! You weren't gathering any, um props, were you?"

"No."

She smiled, caught his belt. Pulled him closer. "Jo-hn," she teased in a sing-song voice. "I won't make it to my room. So let's have sex here. Okay?" She unbuckled his belt.

He leaned to kiss her. Pulled back. "No. We have to go to your room," he insisted.

"What? Why? The bed? John, you won't notice the bed, I promise you. Won't you be on top of me anyway?" she wooed. Hands running down his crotch.

"At first, yes." He sat close, kissing her. "But it has to be your room."

"Why? Most of my underwear is here anyway," she pouted.

"I'll carry you. Come on."

"Fine. But don't carry me." She sighed. Stood. Limped to the door. "All this just for my bed?"

"Yes." He slid his arm around her waist, guided her out of his room. Down the hallway. "Lean on me, Moira. Why are you so stubborn?"

"Me? We could have stayed in your room and had sex! Now I have to limp down two fucking hallways just because you prefer my bed! I mean, seriously, John, what does it matter? I know you prefer that mattress but do you notice it all when we're having sex? I doubt it. So why the obstinate insistence to go to my room when we were in yours and you have a perfectly good bed we can use?"

He sighed. Swung her up into his arms. "Better, baby? Anything to stop your grumbling!"

"John! Put me down! Damn it, put me down!"

"Keep squirming and I'll drop you on that pert little ass!" he warned.

She sighed, holding onto him. Blushed as a few people passed. S lowed. Stared. "It's my foot," she explained. "John! It's not funny!" She could see him biting back laughter.

"Sorry. It's her foot," he explained, but a laugh escaped his lips as they reached her room. "Here, your highness." He set her down gently. "After you."

"Oh shut up," she grumbled. Entered her room. "I don't want to have sex with you now, John, so go and play with your own damn ordnance before I, before I..." She froze, staring at the table. The big bouquet of vivid pink and red roses. The rich scent hovered on the air.

John closed the door. "You were saying?"

She turned, smiled. "Oh John!" She limped, nearly fell into his arms. Kissed him passionately, repeatedly until she pulled back. "What did you do?"

"What? Nothing! Yet." He grabbed her rear, lifted her. Carried her to the bed. Gently set her down. "I'll get you a glass of water for your pills. Sit."

She stared after him. Eyed the flowers. Turned to see the few near the pillows. She eased off her shoes, wincing. Took the glass he offered. "Thank you. The roses are beautiful! What prompted this romantic gesture? Are you suddenly the hearts and flowers guy?"

He smiled. Sat next to her as she downed two pills. "No." He took the empty glass, the pill bottle. Set them on the table. "Lay back. I'll peel you out of those tight jeans. Inch by inch. Now, who was getting a spanking? I can't remember."

She laughed. "As ordered, colonel." She reclined, moving the roses aside. "As for a spanking, I still think you deserve one. For stealing my panties."

He leaned close, kissing her. Fingers unbuttoning, unzipping. Slid his hand to touch her panties. To caress. "Hmm...damn these are tight. I can barely fit."

She laughed. "Hmm...I wonder how you can, sometimes, sweetie. With that big, hard, long ordnance of yours." He laughed. She ran her mouth down his throat. "John, why the flowers?"

He pulled the jeans down, tugging until they were off her body. "Do I have to say it, Moira?" he teased. "Weren't the flowers enough? Geez, next you'll be wanting some sappy, sentimental card. And there are no Hallmark stores in this galaxy." He sat, removed his boots.

She sat. Ran her hand up his back. Kissing his throat. "John, you are more than enough." She slid her fingers under the black fleece shirt. "I can't get enough," she complained.

"Good. That was my plan all along." He turned to kiss her.

"Get your fucking clothes off and let's get it on, sweetie,"she teased with a coy smile.

He grinned. "As ordered, baby. Damn..what the hell is in those pills?"

"The flowers, silly. Get a clue, John," she remonstrated. Pulled off her sweater. Her t-shirt.

He pulled off his shirt. Stood to remove his pants. "Oh, I'm getting it, baby, don't you worry."

She laughed. "That's true." She scooted back, moved onto her knees to pull down the covers. "Let's get underneath this time. It's cold!" She scrambled under the sheets. "John?"

He had moved to the table. Moved back to the bed. Slipped in next to her. "Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you desire."

She touched his face. Drew him close. "I desire you. Hey! What's that?" Something soft was tickling her skin under the blankets.

He laughed. Showed her the rose he held. He trailed it across her throat, her collarbone. Lips. "A rose, baby. Oh, that's right, you're no botanist." He kissed her. Set it aside to run his hands along her arms. Pulling the bra straps down. Pulling the bra down. She arched so he could unhook it. Toss it aside. He took hold of the rose. "Do you know why I selected this particular color?"

She smiled, stroking his arm. Losing herself in his beautiful green eyes. His passionate, playful gaze. "No. Why?"

He kissed her. A soft, slow motion of his lips on hers. "Because it matches. This." He ran the rose over her lips. Down to tease each breast, each nipple. "These especially." He ran it down her waist. Paused as she reacted, shifting. Sighing. He fingered the panties, caressed. Felt her arousal. He kissed her, pulling them down, down, off. "And this," he ran the flower over her intimately. "Here." He ran the blossom all along her. "Wider." She obliged, spreading her legs in delicious anticipation. "Here." He ran the flower along her folds. She lost her breath, fingers tightening on his arm.

"John...John..." She pulled him onto her, kissing him. He tossed the flower aside, returning her kisses. Moving his mouth along the same path the flower had taken. Moira arched, moaned as his tongue teased, traveled. His kisses hot. Hungry. "John, oh John...are you..."

"You better believe it, baby," he murmured against her skin. "You smell like roses, Moira. Sex and roses and I'm so fucking hard now," he wooed. Fingers shoving her thighs apart. She gasped, squirmed as he kissed along her thigh. Teasing her, taunting her as his erection throbbed along her leg, demanding.

"John, John, we have to be quiet, we have to be quiet, quiet," she pleaded breathlessly. "Oh John, oh John!" she whimpered, helpless as he circled, circled. Fingers and mouth wandering, teasing. Moira writhed under him, heart racing. Body tensing, yearning. "John! Oh John!" she cried, so close it was nearly unbearable.

John groaned, about to come himself but prolonging it. Prolonging the foreplay to ensure the maximum orgasm, the shattering climax. He felt her trembling, gushing. He couldn't hold back any longer. Slid up suddenly and entered with a deep, hard thrust. Moira cried out as pleasure inundated her. He was moving in a steady, steady rhythm. She caught his arms, lifted to kiss him, kiss him, run her mouth over him as he changed tempo. Moved faster, faster. Harder. The bed rocked wildly. The headboard slammed, slammed.

"Moira! Oh Moira, Moira, tighter! Tighter, baby, oh yes! That's it! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he groaned loudly. An extended moan escaping his lips as he came in a sharp flood of release.

Moira caught his mouth in an extended kiss. Then arched, clutching as he slid expertly. Faster, faster. She cried out, his name a stuttering litany. The climax blossomed. Sheer sexual pleasure melting her. "John!" she moaned, falling, falling back onto the bed.

"Moira, my Moira...oh baby, I've got a little more here...tighter, oh yes! Fuck, fuck! That's so fucking sweet!" he grunted, the last of his need assuaged. He thrust, thrust, slowed. Fell upon her with a shudder.

Moira smiled, caressed his back. Kissed his shoulder. Amused at how he came. She could always judge the quality of the climax and pleasure by how profusely he swore. And how intensely. Judging by his extended exclamations it had been very, very good for him.

John smiled blissfully. Sated. Satisfied. Thoroughly content. Achieving an orgasm and release that had equaled hers. He reveled in their pleasure. Her soft noises growing louder, more frequent, more intense as he gave her all that he could. As much as he could. The sweet orgasmic litany of his name music to his ears. Inspiration to his cock.

"John." Moira swallowed, throat raw. She frowned for a moment. "We were too loud!"

"Don't care," he countered, voice muffled against her breasts. "Let the whole fucking city know we came. That was glorious, Moira!"

She smiled, kissed the top of his head. "Yes, it was, sweetie. I...um...I..."

"What?" He lifted his head. Slowly slid out of her. Moved half off her. Kissed her. A long, loving kiss. "Whatever you want or need is yours, Moira."

She caressed his arm. "John, I don't want...I don't want this to, to end. I mean...not just the sex, but, but..."

"Why would it end, Moira? I'm not going anywhere. Are you?"

"No." She hesitated.

"Then it won't end, sweetheart. As intimately as our bodies are entwined our hearts are even more so."

"John..." she whispered dreamily.

He smiled. "That worked? Wow. Don't get all teary on me, O'Meara."

"Sorry, Sheppard."

He settled comfortably. Resting his head on her. "Give me five, er...fifteen after that, baby. Shit. Maybe twenty."

She laughed softly. "Go to sleep, John. Remember? No post-coital talking. Unless it's romantic. Then talk away, sweetie."

"Sheesh, that's a terrible rule!" he complained. "How's your foot?"

"Fine. Go to sleep."

"No. I'm just resting. The night is young, baby. We have hours of sexual delights ahead of us." He raised his head to view her face. "And don't you worry, Moira. There is no way that Ford will come close to the city. You're safe. I promise you that."

She smiled. Touched his cheek, his jaw. "I know, John."

"You were wondering about the flowers," he said, changing topics. "I know what you did."

"What? What did I do?"

"Everything." He settled again.

She waited. Waited. "John? Everything?"

"Yeah."

"Could you be more specific?" she asked, tugging his hair.

"What? Oh..everything. I asked Carson about your foot. He told me he wasn't going to ask me about the cave. Because of you." He lifted his head, moved to prop himself up on one elbow. "Because of what you told him. What happened there. How I was thrown across the cave. Couldn't manage to save Jacobs. How I saved you."

"Oh." She stroked his shoulder.

"Oh?" He played with her hair. "Moira, you don't know how much that means to me."

His serious gaze, solemn tone enamored her. "You can trust me, John. Nothing more will ever be said about it. Unless you need to talk to me. No one else needs to know. You were very brave, very strong, John."

"Yeah, right. You were, Moira. Thank you." He kissed her.

"Oh! The flowers! I see."

"Yes. And because I love you." He kissed her again. "My Moira. I'll give you much more than flowers if you would only tell me what you want. What you desire. What you yearn to have."

"Apart from you? Apart from your love? I love you, John. That's all that matters."

"True. But I am serious. What was that thing you mentioned? A, a tsavorite pendant or–"

"I was teasing, John." She kissed him. "Only you. I want you." She paused, added slyly, "And my underwear."

He laughed.