Hibernation10
Moira sighed. Arched her back, stretching her arms behind her, then over her head. Thrusting her breasts out towards the table as she moaned loudly. Shifted on the chair, lifting her rear just slightly. She relaxed, arms lowered. Looked across her room to see John standing near the bed. Staring.
"Hilarious, Moira," he scolded sourly.
She smirked. "What? I've been at it for hours now, John."
"You will be, baby. So?"
She shrugged. Closed the data pad as it sat on the table. "I have no idea."
He smirked. "You wasted how many hours, then?"
"Hilarious, John." She freed her hair. Ran her hands through the wavy brown tresses. She stood. Turned to face him. "John?"
He was studying her. Arms at his sides. "I'm not sure whether you are coming onto me or merely luring me to get close so you can hit me. Care to enlighten me?"
"No." She eyed him. Expression serious. She glanced at the table. The roses. The fudge. Back to John as he stood, waiting. She stepped to him. Touched his arm. Ran her fingers up and down silently. A welter of emotions rising and falling as she stared at his chest. "John."
"Don't say another word, Moira." He lifted her face to his. Kissed her gently. Lips stroking hers. Subtly opening them but his tongue remained aloof. One hand traveled gently up her back to tangle in her hair.
Moira leaned into the kiss. Her body just brushing his. But she drew back, uncertain. "John? I...I...oh shit, John, we've been through so much lately and I don't know I don't–"
He kissed her again. A longer, deeper kiss. Drawing her mouth into his, her body against his. He freed her. "Whatever you decide, sweetheart. Whatever you wish." He sauntered to the bed. Began to quietly undress. His back to her as he pulled off his shirt. Removed his pants. Shoes. Socks. Left his shorts and moved towards her, then veered around her. "I want a piece...of fudge," he finished with a smirk. Sat on the chair.
Moira was staring. Uncertain. Debating this way and that. She removed her shirt. Her pants. Shoes. Left the socks. She moved to him. Touched his shoulder. She slid onto his lap suddenly, straddling him as she faced him. "So do I. Want a piece. Of fudge." She reached back and grabbed two pieces. "Here, sweetie." She fed him one. Ate hers.
John was smiling, still not sure of her mood, her intentions. Gaze devouring her naked skin. The green bra and panties. Her swirling hair. The weight of her on his lap as she gyrated slightly to get comfortable. "Hmm...pretty good," he commented, eating the fudge. Watching as she chewed, sucked. Swallowed. Closed her eyes, rocking slightly on him.
"Good? This is exquisite! Oh God, it's so good! So good! Oh, oh, oh," she moaned, teasing him. "Oh caramel!" She opened her eyes to see his smirk.
"Wow, Moira, is it the caramel fudge or is it me that's turning you on? Because, baby, you are definitely turned on," he teased, feeling her arousal through her panties. He caressed her bare thighs as his arousal stirred under her. Responding. Reacting.
"Wouldn't you like to know, sweetie?" she teased. Reaching back for more.
"As a matter of fact I would," he rejoined. "Lift." She hesitated, did so. He smiled. Touched her hips. Slid her panties down, down, smiling. "Oh baby, so fucking sweet."
"Wait! Don't rip them!" He chuckled as she scrambled off him, wiggled out of them. John swiftly lifted to remove his shorts, anticipation building. He moaned as she suddenly straddled him, trapping his growing erection under her. Wetness caressing him. She reached back and fed him another piece of fudge. "Now savor it, sweetie."
"Oh, I intend to, baby, don't you worry." He chewed, swallowed. "Let me." He took a piece fed it to her as she moved deliciously upon him.
"I'm talking about the fudge, sweetie," she chastised. "Hmm...so good, so good."
"So am I, baby." He kissed her, hands sliding up to her bra. "Fudge, fudge, fudge," he teased, undoing the garment to remove it. To caress her breasts.
She laughed softly, shifting. "Oh John, John Sheppard, is that a gun in your lap or are you just happy to see me?"
He smiled. "That's all me, baby. Very happy. Oh Moira, Moira Sheppard, fudge me, baby."
"Not yet." She kissed him. Circled his ear as he ran his mouth along her throat She murmured. Provocatively leaned back to grab more fudge. John took the opportunity to kiss her breasts, to suck a hardening nipple until she straightened. "No."
"Ah, baby, please," he pouted.
She smiled. "First." She fed him a piece of fudge. "Second." She gave him one to feed her. He slid it into her mouth. Moira moaned in enjoyment, also keeping his finger in her mouth. Sucking both. Swirling her tongue. Swallowing the fudge. Sucking on his finger.
"Ah baby, fudge, what's third?" he asked in delight, becoming hard beneath her. He wondered if he could ever get her to suck, to swirl his cock as hard as she was doing it to his finger. Groaned at the thought. He discovered the third when she lifted. He sprang up to meet her, fully erect now. Eager. S he took him inside her slowly, clenching as she slid down the hard length of him. He groaned loudly, jerking inside her. Moira moaned as he suddenly thrust. A burst of pleasure startling her. Bit without realizing.
"Ow!" John's complaint made her stop moving. She opened her mouth. He pulled out his finger. Stared at it. "Damn, baby, that really hurt."
Moira smiled. "Did it hurt enough, sweetie? I thought you wanted me to bite. Hard. Don't all your fucking lots some women bite hard? Enough of them seem to enjoy sucking your cock," she noted bitterly. Before he could reply she kissed him. Hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders. She nibbled his throat. Began moving up and down, up and down. Whimpering to tease him, arouse him. Moving harder, faster now in a sensual gyration. Clasping his shoulders as she rocked on him.
John groaned as the pleasure mounted, mounted. "Yeah, they do enjoy it, baby, but I only want your mouth on my cock," he retorted. He glanced at his finger. "Shit, Moira, it still stings." The skin was broken. A bite mark was forming. Blood welled. But the pleasure was becoming sharper, sweeter. He grabbed her hips as she rocked, rocked. "Ah fuck, fuck! I mean fudge, fudge!" he corrected.
"I'm just going to use you, John, use you as a fuck buddy from now on," she taunted, knowing he hated that term. "I call this Sheppard's delight." She shifted, kissed him deeply before he could respond. Thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Teasing, swirling as she moved faster, faster. Leaning forward a bit. Her breasts scraping against his chest hair. She rode him hard. Harder, keeping her thighs close, clenching tightly on him. As if she wanted to hurt him. Keep him from coming. Messily she gyrated. All but devoured his lips, sucking and nibbling. Biting.
John was in ecstasy. Knowing full well what she was doing but he didn't care. All the thrusting, swirling, sucking making him painfully eager. Unable to release as she trapped him. Kept him in a straight, confined rhythm that nevertheless gave him spasms of sexual gratification. He groaned, groaned, straining. Hips thrusting up as he was coming despite her efforts. He grabbed her rear to shove, shove her harder. Harder still. Broke his mouth from hers. "Wider! Wider, damn it! Fuck, fuck, fudge!"
Moira was moaning, whimpering. Arching now, leaning back. Arms outstretched as she clutched his shoulders. Taking all of him. Bouncing her rear on his thighs, on his balls. Up and down, up and down. She hit the table's edge but didn't care. "Fudge me, John, fudge me, fudge me oh John, oh John!" she breathed hotly. Clenching and releasing as he surged upwards, inwards.
"Fuck! I mean fudge, fudge, fudge oh God that's so tight! Moira, so fucking tight!" he growled, shudders caressing his body as he fought to release. Straining against her sweetly agonizing trap.
Moira shifted as the pleasure began to throb, to escalate. But she stopped suddenly. Lifted and gyrated to free herself. She sat on him and he groaned in pain. "John? Did I do that?" She grabbed his hand to stare at his finger. The bite mark, red and bleeding slightly. "Oh shit!"
"Doesn't matter, baby. We need to come now! This is Sheppard's delight part two. Hang on!"
He kissed her. Tongue sliding into her mouth. Strangling her gasp as he grabbed her rear. Lifted her up, onto the table as he stood.
"The fudge?" she warned, breathless, but he laughed.
"Fudge, indeed, baby." He shoved the food and the data pad aside. Shoved the roses out of the way. Vases fell. Roses spilled around her, under her. On her. He pushed her onto her back. Shoved her thighs wide apart. Pinned her arms and thrust into her. Moira writhed, moaning as he growled in relief. Thrusting hard, deep. Establishing a teasing, steady rhythm. He kissed her. His tongue mimicking his cock.
The table was shaking. Roses were falling. Moira struggled to free her arms but John held her in place. Freed her mouth to nibble along her throat. To gently bite her earlobe. All the while thrusting, assuaging his own need. And hers. Grunting to annoy her. Arouse her. Take her.
Moira was drowning in a flood of passion, sex. The pleasure pulsing, growing. John was relentless, possessive. All over her as his mouth almost savagely, sloppily moved to her breasts. She arched, helpless, trying to keep her sounds soft but it only seemed to give him more impetus. Every motion of his cock stroking, cajoling her into throbbing pleasure. Every motion of his mouth teasing, taking but stopping before she felt any real pain. She couldn't free her arms, but flung her legs up, around his hips, his rear, giving him complete control, complete access to whatever he desired, whatever he needed. "John! Oh John, oh God, oh God, oh John!" The words were torn from her lips.
"Fuck! Don't you ever leave us unsatisfied, baby!" he snapped, voice low, husky. "Oh fudge this is going to be explosive!"
"John! Oh John, oh John, oh John!" she begged, pleaded, demanded until her voice devolved into inarticulate whimpers and moans. Tears blurred her vision as orgasms burst in her, on her. She arched, arched, writhing so wildly she was afraid she would fall off the table. The sheer, excruciating pleasure made her cry out loudly. Arms breaking free of his hands to grab, to claw at him. She sat up, nails clawing his back, then fell onto her back again in a breathless moan.
John groaned, groaned, arching into her. Coming wildly, spasms rocking him as they rocked the table. A shiver of pure lust slid along his skin. Then release as he ejaculated, kept thrusting, hard, fast until he leaned heavily on her, utterly drained. He kissed her repeatedly. "Fuck! Oh fuck I can't even feel my cock now!" he muttered happily, face in her hair as he breathed heavily. Could feel the sweat trickling on their bodies. Could feel her muscles relaxing at last around him. A few last jerking thrusts as she took all of him, all of his need, his lust. "Moira," he growled. Lifted to kiss her passionately as her legs relaxed, freed him.
Moira was gasping, grasp gentling on him as her legs dangled on either side of him once more. She was breathing heavily. Brown eyes wide with wonder, satisfaction. "John? My God..."
"Yeah. Hang on a sec." He moaned, slid out of her at last, for a moment thinking he wasn't going to be able to leave her. He straightened. Staring down at her. "That was Sheppard's delight, baby. Don't you ever forget that." Roses were strewn around her, on her. Blushing pink petals in her hair, on one breast, on her hips. "So fucking, er, fudging beautiful, my Moira." He pulled her abruptly to her feet. Embraced her. Kissed her again. Hand sliding round to her cup her rear. "How's that pert little ass, baby? Hmm?" He gently squeezed.
She squirmed, but clung to him. Overcome, almost dizzy with the rush of sexual pleasure, passion. Possession. "John! Oh John...you, you..." she breathlessly muttered against his chest. Pushed out of his arms to stare at him. But he swung her off her feet, into his arms. "John!"
He laughed at her expression. "Bed." He carried her to the bed. Practically threw her onto it.
She laughed as she bounced, scrambled not to fall off it. She scooted up to the pillows, on her stomach. "John! Oh John...you...you fudged me to, to death!"
He laughed, sprawled next to her. "Ah baby, I fudged you, you fudged me. So intensely I think we've set a new record for escalation. Damn!" His voice rang with replete pride. "I love fudge, Moira. I really do." She snorted a laugh. "I'm serious, baby. Fudge." He rolled onto his side. Sat, eyes on the slope of her lower back, the spill of her messy hair. Her naked rear. He laughed again.
"What?"
"You've got rose petals plastered to your pert little ass, baby. So fucking beautiful, no, no!" He stopped her from moving. "Lift up, just a little baby, just a little, please! Offer that pert little ass to me...oh yeah, yeah, oh baby, that's so damn luscious I have to have a picture."
She laughed, shifting as he ran his hand down her back. Caressing just above her rear to make her murmur. "No fudging way, sweetie."
"Oh please, please, baby! You have no idea how exquisitely beautiful this is...my God, it's perfect."
She laughed. "No, sweetie! It's just an ass! Not a ouch!" she complained as he smacked it.
"Moira!" he scolded. Fingers running delicately over each cheek. Caressing. Groping. "This is not just an ass. This is a work of art. The sweetest, tightest, most pert little ass in two galaxies, I swear!"
"John!" she scolded, laughing. She propped herself up on her elbows, trying not to react, not to shift as his fingers were erotic. She looked over her shoulder at him.
"You know, baby," he persisted, ignoring her glare, "most men would kill to be where I am right now. Hell, most men would have died where I was a few minutes ago. But this...seeing this, touching this, groping this, running their tongues over every inch of the perfection that is your pert little ass," he enthused seriously. She squirmed, stopped. Her body reacting. "You know, baby, the first time you leaned over, way over in those tight khaki pants I thought I'd died and gone to heaven."
Moira laughed. "John! Cut it out! Your strange obsession over my ass is–"
"I would deliberately drop things, knock things over just to make you lean over to pick stuff up, to push out that pert little ass and reveal every curve, every line. I would bump into you not by accident but by design, just to fell those tight curves, those cheeks demanding to be grasped and squeezed and swatted."
She laughed at his extravagant speech. His humorous exaggerations. "John Sheppard! Please! You are–"
He met her gaze, smiled. "Moira, please! Please, please, please let me take a photo of this lovely pert little ass covered by rose petals, please! Covered with roses as pink as your lips, as pink as your nipples, as pink as your sweet, sweet–"
"John!" Moira blushed, shifting but his hand firmly closed on one cheek.
"No! I'll do anything, Moira! Anything you want, just please, please give me this."