CHAPTER 20
AN: Note the new lower rating; this is the 14-A version of this chapter. The full adult content will appear on COMMAND DYNAMICS and my personal web site for those who want the full chapter. While not exactly innocent, this chapter complies with ffn's regs.
The knock on his door had been unexpected, but, when John saw the smiling face of the knocker he decided that the interruption from sleep was well worth it.
"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?" John asked as he waved her into the small room he'd been staying in since arriving at Nellis.
Without a word Elizabeth entered the room and shrugged out of her blazer, revealing a tiny lacy tank top in an extremely becoming emerald green. She kicked the door closed with the heel of her left shoe while hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, sliding them slowly around to the back, her lithe fingers undoing the button and sliding the zipper down until the formerly well-fitting skirt became too heavy to stay on her slim hips, falling to the floor with her blazer in a heap of black with light grey pinstripes, easily stepped out of as she moved deeper into the room.
"Elizabeth?" John choked. Elizabeth, the leader of Atlantis, his boss, was in his room, in a tiny lacy green tank top and silky black panties, high black fuck-me heels, and eyes dark with something John refused to quantify, and it threw him. Because Elizabeth didn't wear lacy tank tops, she rarely wore anything other than her uniform red, he had spent a lot of time and energy not imagining what kind of panties she preferred, and he'd only seen her in heels a few times but they'd always been lower sensible ones half-hidden by pantsuits not the four-inch torture devices that were making her legs look like they were fifty feet long. And her eyes… he knew the look she had in them. Hunger, lust, need; all things primal and not at all in keeping with the prim and proper, though at times amusingly irreverent, Doctor Elizabeth Weir. "What's going on?" John asked shakily.
"If you have to ask I'm not doing it right," Elizabeth purred, crossing her arms over her belly, grasping the hem of her top between her fingertips and pulling up, the silk sliding up and revealing skin, more skin than he'd seen even the one time he'd managed to get her to join him in teaching the Athosian kids to swim. She pulled the top over her head and let it slip from her fingertips, the silk fluttering to the floor like a leaf, and then Elizabeth was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of panties and fuck-me heels. "You're wearing too much," she decided after a pause, then she took another step forward and her fingers grasped the hem of his tee shirt and began pulling it upwards and John felt all the oxygen in the room vanish.
Stunned stupid, John didn't fight it when Elizabeth raised the shirt up over his head, even lifting his arms to aid her in divesting him of the soft cotton, though his unblinking eyes made it clear that he wasn't entirely there. Or, rather, he was there, but on overload from the visual stimuli that so much naked Elizabeth provided. The shirt fell from her grasp as her fingers moved to the lazily tied bow holding his flannel pyjama pants on his hips. She pulled at one of the loose ends of the bow, the excessively long string straightening as the bow came unlooped and the wash-worn soft flannel slipped an inch lower on his hips before catching on his pubic bone.
Elizabeth slid her fingers along to rest on his hips, the tips of her fingers sliding under the waistband of his pants. "This will be more fun if you play along," she said, inching forward until her breasts were brushing his chest. She licked her lips, and, whether it was an unconscious motion or another step in her seduction, John didn't care. Because all he knew in that moment was that he had to know what it felt like to touch her lips.
"This can't be a game, Elizabeth," John said, every ounce of self control he had left holding him back from throwing his almost-naked boss down on the uncomfortable BOQ bed and taking control of the situation.
"Who's playing?" Elizabeth whispered before closing the space between their lips, one of her hands leaving his waist and sliding into his hair while the other slid around to the small of John's back, pressing his body against hers as she ground herself against his groin.
Turning her face into the pelting spray Elizabeth stood still, a long day of meetings and avoidance causing tension in muscles that hadn't been tense since before she left Earth.
"Bureaucratic-bullshit induced tension," Elizabeth grumbled through the rumble of the water.
Her head, which had been pounding so hard she had foregone an invitation to join SG-1 for dinner at some restaurant in town, was feeling much better, half an hour post a dose of Advil and a litre of cool water, but every other inch of her body ached in a nearly-screaming way that didn't speak of a day spent hiking or swimming or anything else active and fun and even remotely pleasurable, but, rather, a day of stop and start meetings, rushing to a room then sitting until her muscles were past cooled then rushing to another room to repeat the process.
She'd been spoilt, she supposed, being the leader in Atlantis. Unless she was checking up on progress in one of the labs, or decided, herself, that she needed to stretch her legs, all meetings were held either in her own office, or the large Conference Room with louvered doors which was barely any distance from her office, or the Control Room, which was right across the bridge from her office. She made a vow, then and there, to get off her ass more often. Maybe go off-world a few times, if John okayed it, because he, technically, had to, being—still, thank any deity that was listening—the military commander of the base; one of the parts of John's job description was protecting Elizabeth, something he often did to an extent that Elizabeth considered to be overkill, but she was still alive and John was a lot less tense now that he knew she would follow his directions to the letter while they were off-world.
All work-related thoughts fled her mind when the slightly dingy opaque plastic shower curtain was pulled back, and another person joined her in the shower, pressing her back against the cool, slick tile as he pressed his lips to hers, one hand tangling in her soaking wet curls, the other hand resting low on her hip, his body so close to hers that she could feel the coarse hair between his pectorals rubbing tantalizingly against her breasts, could feel his arousal pressing against her belly. Instinctively her arms slid around his shoulders, one hand sliding up into the untameable dark hair, tangling her fingers in the strands while the mist off the shower drifted down over them, the other hand sliding up and down his back slowly, revelling in the feel of hard muscle and soft skin and, when she pressed a little harder, rib bones and his spine.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Nevada," Elizabeth gasped as he tore his lips from hers and began nipping and sucking a trail down along her jaw and back toward her ear.
"Had to see you," John said, his voice rumbling in her ear, not over a radio headset, like she was used to, with tiny distortions and miles or, sometimes, lightyears, between them. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he spoke, undistorted, low and rumbling and so devastatingly sexy that Elizabeth felt her knees do a liquefying thing she thought only happened in trashy romance novels and overwrought teenage dramas on primetime television.
In two different states the two leaders of the not-so-mythic No-Longer-Lost City of Atlantis bolted upright in their beds, respiration heavy, bodies dazed by the arousal thrumming through their systems.
Okay, wow, this chapter took a long time to get out. The sad thing is that it's been sitting on my harddrive for months and I've been working on following chapters, thinking I had already posted this. Sorry everyone.
Anyway, Vancouver's been attacked by over two feet of snow (we usually get less than an inch a year) and I've been trapped in my house with my visiting parents, my 91 year old grandmother, my younger sister, and her boyfriend, along with two dogs and my rabbit, for the past two weeks and, to keep from going insane with family-overtime I decided to clean up my harddrive. That's how I discovered I hadn't posted this chapter yet.
Now, obviously, the sex-dream thing has been done a million times before, but, really, I've got John and Elizabeth in two different states, and I need to keep them that way for the time being, but there's only so many times they can talk to each other on the phone before even I lose interest in the story.
Fair warning, a some of the next chapters will be Elizabeth/Simon. As soon as I regain control of my living room and the DVD player I'll pop in RISING, HOME, and INTRUDER to make sure I have Garwin Sanford's/Simon's meter and vocabulary down. I wrote the chapters while watching SG-1's ENIGMA, PRETENSE, and BETWEEN TWO FIRES, and am only just realizing that those are Narim, not Simon, and, other than Sanford himself, there is very little the two characters have in common, including the way they talk/act/react and so forth.
Happy holidays, happy New Year, et cetera, et cetera...
Until next time
Manic Penguin