Adaptation5

John stood outside of Moira's door. He glanced up and down the hallway. Knocked briskly. Knuckles rapping against the door with concise precision.

"Just a sec!" Moira called, sounding annoyed. John smiled at her tone. Could imagine her flustered state. Anticipated it.

Moira snatched a folder off the table. Moved to the door and waved it open. "I'm just on my way to see Weir so this had better...oh." She stared, surprised. Eyes roving over him as he lounged in the doorway. Black t-shirt molded to his lean torso. Gray pants molded to his long legs. "John?"

"Moira." His gaze moved over her loosening ponytail. Her brown shirt and dark blue pants. The fabric was loose, not as tight as he would have liked. He met her gaze. Smiled. "Aren't you supposed to be fucking me?"

Moira's gaze narrowed. "Hilarious, John. Move. I've got to see Weir."

"No. Aren't you, Moira?" he repeated, stepping into the room. Deliberately forcing her to step backwards out of his way. He waved the door closed with his hand.

"Damn it, John, you tell me, because honestly, I don't know. Ironic, isn't it? The one time I get caught coming out of your room is the one time we didn't have sex. But I know you're pissed but you know what? I don't care."

He stepped to her, making her turn and back up into the wall. Folder held up in front of her breasts like a shield. "Really now? You don't care. Huh...funny that. Because neither do I." Before she could register her disbelief he kissed her. Pulling her against him, crushing the folder between them. "We need to have sex, Moira," he said into her ear. Kissing down her throat.

She pushed him. "No! We're not having sex, John! We're not having sex just to have sex! Unless...unless we're not broken up. Are we back together, John?" she asked. Trying to keep control of her emotions. Her body's eager response to his.

"No." He kissed her again, pushing her back against the wall. Yanking the folder out of her hand and tossing it to the floor. Papers fluttered around them.

"What?" She pushed again. Hands on his chest. "We...we're not?" Tears threatened in her wide brown eyes as she stared.

He smiled. "No, Moira. We're not back together." He paused, ran a finger down her rosy cheek. "We're not back together because we never broke up." He kissed her. Hands running down her sides to her hips. Guiding her body against his. Pulling her away from the wall now to cup her rear, to gently squeeze as his tongue dove into her mouth.

Moira murmured, lost in the erotic sensations, the hungering demands of his mouth, his hands. His growing erection pressing against her now. But she pulled away, hit the wall. "What? You...we...you...you sent me away..."

"I did. I needed time, but we never broke up, sweetheart. Never. There's no way in hell I'm giving up this. You." He kissed her again. A long, savoring motion of his mouth on hers. As if to taste her confusion, her sorrow, her need. He stepped away, only to sweep her up off her feet. Into his arms as he carried her to the bed.

"John?" She scrambled, squirmed, clutched at him as she was suddenly airborne. Pressed against his chest, his waist as he carried her. She smiled, laughed as he tossed her onto the bed. "John!" she exclaimed, surprised, enamored.

He laughed, moved to her. Over her as he pushed her onto her back. "Moira. I want you. I want you to, what was it? Oh yes. Baby, I want you to fuck me." He kissed her passionately. Fingers plying at her clothing.

Her fingers were just as eager, just as impatient. Tugging at his clothes as their mouths entwined. Their bodies shoving against each other. "John! I have to go see–"

"Later," he intoned in her ear. Sat and yanked off his shirt. "This is more important, Moira. Much more important. Besides, I'll take the flak for you. Don't you worry." He leaned over to remove his boots.

Moira sat, staring. Relieved he still wanted her. Still wanted to be with her. She freed her hair. "Okay...I guess...I...um...John? You...oh John..." She watched as he stood, pulled down his pants, revealing his plum and white checkered boxers. "Oh my...that is quite the statement, colonel..."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, scowled. "Hilarious, Moira. No comments about my undies. Take off your shoes and socks. Nothing else. Yet." He smiled at her. Waited, hands on the waistband of his shorts. "What did you say to her?"

Moira smirked. "Say? To whom?" She untied her shoes. Hesitated and removed her socks.

John licked his lips slowly. He suddenly got onto the bed, lying next to her on his back. "Ah...this bed...feels so good, baby. To that woman. To make her leave in a huff. She stared at me like I was a piece of meat," he complained.

"Oh." She laughed. Turned and pounced on him. Clambered up his body. To trap him under her as her mouth ran over his. Kissing him deeply, tasting his full lips. Gently sucking to make him groan softly. Her body squirming on his. She trailed kisses along his scruffy jaw. Up his throat. Circled his ear. "Oh John...I only told her the truth."

"The truth?" he asked, catching her. His hands slid along her back to her rear again.

"Yes, sweetie. That I am fucking Colonel Sheppard and it is so good, so fucking good she couldn't possibly believe it, or imagine it."

He grinned, but paused. Rolled them so she was beneath him. "You said that?" he asked, shifting on top of her to make her murmur, moan.

"Hmm...John...more or less. It is true."

"I know that, baby, I just ow!"

She hit his arm in reprimand. "You arrogant bastard," she teased.

He laughed. "Oh baby, if I were to even to begin to brag about you every man in this city would want you. Hell, Moira, you gave an entire planet a hard-on, for crying out loud," he teased.

"Shut up, John! Oh! We can't do this!" She shoved. He slid off her and she sat. "John!"

"What? Shouldn't you be fucking me?" he reminded, a sly smile on his handsome face. He sat, considering what to do.

"No. I mean, what about your back? What about Weir? What about last night's drunken, um, debrief?" She looked round the room, back to him. Worried. Freed her hair from the ponytail.

John's gaze wandered. Her loose hair swirling deliciously around her. The ends curling down to her breasts, to the rosy nipples hardening under the shirt, the bra. "Doesn't matter. None of it. I know exactly what we need to do, baby," he assured, voice husky with need. Desire. He caught her lips again. Ran his fingers in her hair as his mouth trailed along her throat. Nibbled her earlobe.

A soft whimper escaped Moira's lips. A shiver coursing along her body in reaction to his voice, his touch, his kiss, his gaze. "John? What?" she managed to ask, breathless.

"We need to have sex, Moira," he explained. Kissed her again. His lips slow, gentle. Tasting. Promising passion. Hands cupping her breasts now, caressing. Teasing.

"I know, you said that, sweetie, and–"

"No, baby. Not just any sex." He trailed kisses along her throat again. "Touch me."

She ran her hand up his chest. Felt the solid warmth, the lean muscles. Fingers tugging at the dark hair. "John?"

"No. Touch me, Moira," he repeated. He nibbled along her throat down to her collarbone. All the while his fingers plying her breasts, gently squeezing.

Moira shifted, reacting vividly. His seductions arousing. Exciting. Her fingers trailed down to his waist. To his shorts. To his crotch were his erection was jutting against the fabric. She caressed, caught hold. "John?" She kissed him.

"My Moira, we need to have sex," he repeated, growing harder and harder as her grasp stroked. Tightened.

"I know, you keep saying that," she replied in a breathless gasp.

"Mind-numbing sex," he clarified. "Okay, baby?"

She hesitated. Stared into his brilliant green eyes. Full of passion, playfulness. Hunger. "Okay, sweetie," she answered. Uncertain but trusting him.

He smiled. Kissed her. A long, slow kiss taking possession of her mouth. He groaned as her fingers closed over, around him. "Take off your shirt," he intoned into her ear. Sat back. His hand on her thigh as he freed her breasts.

She eyed him, wondering what he was planning. She pulled off the shirt, set it aside. Gulped as his gaze slowly roved over her. Her hair spilling down to her breasts encased in a brown satin bra. He ran a finger over the swells of her breasts.

"I trust the panties match?"

"See for yourself, flyboy."

He smiled. Kissed her, halting the growing passion of her lips with his. Stopping her hands from touching his chest as she freed him at last. "Not yet. Take off the bra."

She met his gaze, wondering what game he was playing. What slow, sweet seduction this was. Enjoying every minute of it. She reached back to unhook the bra. Slid the straps down slowly. Removed it and set it aside. Felt a shiver as his gaze slid over her. Her body reacting, reacting to just his gaze, his nearness. "John..." she said softly, voice caught between desire and curiosity.

He smiled. "So beautiful, Moira. So very, very beautiful. Lay back."

She did so, scooting up to the pillows. He caught her ankle. Stood. Paused as she stared at him, hair mussed, the ends straggling down to her breasts. "You–"

"Not quite yet, sweetheart." He paused, controlling his lust, his love, his desire. His body reacting quickly. Too quickly for what he had in mind. He caressed her scarred foot a moment. "Unzip."

She reached down, unbuttoned, unzipped the pants. Lifted as he slowly pulled them off her body.

"Ah...they do match," he said approvingly. "Tell me, Moira, are they wet?"

She frowned, but replied coyly, "Why don't you come see for yourself, John?"

"I will...but I want them gushing. Sodden. Check for me first."

"What?" Surprised she stared. Colored.

"Please, Moira. Just see if they are wet," he insisted. Shifting his stance.

She hesitated. "You and your kinky..." she muttered. Licked her lips. Ran her hand down her waist. Over her panties. Between her legs. "Yes, John, they–"

"Make absolutely certain, baby," he said, a groan escaping his lips. Gaze riveted. So eager to take her but he held back, held back.

She colored, shifted, aroused under his gaze. Felt herself tightening, tensing. Anticipating him. She rubbed her fingers along the panties, drew her hand away as he moaned. "Yes, John, they are wet. Very wet."

"Hmm...then we had better remove them, baby. Wait!" He stroked her ankle. "You remove them."

"I..." She sighed. Slid her hands down to her hips. Slid her fingers under the fabric. Slid them lower, lower. Wiggling and lifting to remove them, exposing herself to his intense scrutiny. She tried to keep her legs closed as she finally got them off her, bending her knees. "John–"

"Okay, Moira. Fuck," he muttered, voice nearly hoarse with need. "Now make certain you are wet enough."

"John! You want me to, to–"

"Yes. I so want you to, to..." he teased. Licked his lips. "Now, Moira."

She shifted, uncomfortable. Aroused. She gingerly touched herself. "Yes."

He grinned. "Ah, no. Not like that. Come on, baby, do it right. All the way. Open your thighs and make absolutely certain you are gushing wet for me. But tight. So fucking tight."

"John! I am not going to–" she protested, caught between arousal and embarrassment.

"Moira, the longer you delay the more likely it is I will come all over that bed," he warned, hand on the waistband of his shorts.

She sighed. "You and your kinky sexual–"

"Do it now," he urged.

She shifted. Debated. Touched herself, fingers skimming along her mound. She opened her legs slightly, dipped her fingers along the cleft, arching a little to push her breasts up, up. "Oh John, oh John," she moaned, anxious with need, with lust, "I am so wet, so tight, so fucking tight...hey, maybe I can do this without you."

He laughed, a low, sensual sound. Yanked off his shorts and was suddenly on top of her. He caught her hand, kissed her passionately. Jerked against her thigh but gritted his teeth. Stopped. Slid his now naked body half off of hers. So close to coming it was almost painful. Almost.

"John? Is it your back? Aren't you–" Moira asked, mistaking his reaction.

"Yes, oh yes, I am, but I want to do this first. I'm not done yet, Moira...if I can hold it...shit...just a second here...fuck..."

She smiled. "Don't hold back, John. Just have sex with me. This is fine, just fine," she urged, kissing along his jaw. Her fingers sliding up and down his arm.

"No." He breathed deeply, gaining control. Just. He caught her arms, gently moved them to either side of her head. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Moira, so you had damn better appreciate it."

"Appreciate what, John? Just fuck me," she encouraged, puzzled. Saw his mirth. "John, please."

"Please?" He kissed her. "All in good time, sweetheart. First I want this. I need this."

"Want what?" She shifted her body against his. Inviting. Hot and welcoming. "John? What exactly do you want?"

"Moira..." He kissed her. Ran his mouth down her throat. Her shoulder. Teased around her breasts. She arched expectantly, whimpering softly. He groaned, slid his hands down her wrists to her forearms, still pinning her. Tongue gliding along her breasts, teasing the rosy nipples until he kissed eagerly, sucking to make her squirm, to moan.

Moira bit her lip, trying to keep quiet. Breathed quickly as he moved down her waist. To the scar. Teased along it. She shifted, arms moving down to her torso but he kept them pinned.

"Not yet," he groaned against her skin. Voice thrumming through her. He kissed lower. Lower.

She realized his destination. "John! Oh John, that? That again?"

"Moira, you are going to love this. In fact you are going to have the orgasm of a lifetime. Two if I can enter you in time. Multiples, baby."

"What? John, John," she stammered, trying to move, to free her arms, squirming. But he laughed along her skin. Lifted his head to meet her gaze. Freed her arms to touch her thighs. Shoved them apart. Wider. "Trust me, baby...and don't you dare hold back."

"John, John, you don't have to do this! Just come inside me to–" She gasped as he kissed her inner thigh. Hands on her hips as she writhed under him. She batted at his head, his shoulders. His mouth ran up her skin to her mound. Skimming the mound just as her fingers had done. "John, John, please...oh God...please..." she whimpered, sensations wild. Spirals of pleasure pulsing so intimately. He groaned, shifted. Slid down and searched for what he wanted.

Moira moaned, hands clawing at the blankets, at him as her body took over violently. She arched, squirmed. John shoved her thighs wide, hands on his pelvis to keep her in place, to keep her from escaping. Teasing nibbles were causing her to rock, to squirm. To whimper helplessly. To moan repeatedly. Pleasure circling, circling, but finding no release. Not yet as John teased and teased. Fingers sliding along her folds now, under and around. Abruptly he thrust, thrust to find that sweet center, the nub to make her moan, whimper. He kept at it ruthlessly, possessing her. Making her body writhe and jerk, flush hotly. Wetly. Opening completely to him.

Moira couldn't restrain her cries. Sounds issuing loudly, repeatedly from her lips. Nearly screaming his name in a breathless shudder as he sucked and sucked, taking all of her. The orgasm slammed into her. Pulsing in wave after wave. A sensual vibration. A ceaseless whirl she thought would kill her if he didn't stop. Her breath gone in a nearly painful murmur.

Finally John pulled out, back, eyed her. Gaze lustful, satisfied yet ravenous. He was starting to come, ejaculating on the bed, on her thigh. The crescendo of her cries and whimpers pushing him over the edge. Swiftly he slid up to thrust inside her. Finding her open but still tight. He thrust and thrust, gaining momentum now as she clenched over him. He groaned loudly, fingers digging into her hips but he freed her lest her inadvertently hurt her.

Moira arched, rocking wildly with him. Coming again in a rush, as intensely as the first time. Fluids gushing. Helpless her thighs opened wide, knees bending. Back arching. Almost up in the air as he thrust quicker, harder, deeper. Groaning as he throbbed, throbbed. Moira cried out repeatedly, lost in an endless repetition of his name. An endless cycle of pleasure. An endless momentum. He was so big, so hard, so long, making his way repeatedly deeper, deeper. The bed rocked violently underneath them.

John groaned, arching, thrusting with ecstatic abandon. Faster and faster. So hard he thought he would die, would never find that sweet release. But finally he did. An endless repetition of swear words escaped his lips as he came. An endless thrusting turned to spasm after spasm. Pleasure rippling along him now. Body releasing, relaxing from the strain, the hunger.

Moira lost her breath, clawing at his shoulders but being careful of his back. He abruptly fell upon her. Utterly spent. Sodden inside her, beneath her on the bed. He breathed heavily. Her breasts trapped beneath his chest. His head on her shoulder, in her hair. His deep breaths fluttering her tresses. Warm on her skin. Their sweat mingled. She breathed heavily, stroked his side when he suddenly tensed, thrust again and spurted inside her. He collapsed onto her. Moira moaned, shifted. Felt hot, sticky. But sated. Tried to close her legs but he moaned. Still inside her. Unable to move just yet as the lazy relaxation, release claimed him.