Conditioned Aversion9
A noise woke Moira. She stirred, slid out of John's arms to sit. She eyed the window. The sleet had turned to a snowfall. Big, fluffy flakes illuminated in the lights outside. She felt a chill on her naked skin, pulled the blankets up around her. Looked over as John shifted, grunting slightly. She smiled. But grew somber. S he nudged him. Shook him. "John! John, wake up! John!"
He woke, scowling. "What?" He blinked, staring at her. Glanced at his watch. "Shit. It's two in the morning, Moira! What the hell?"
"John, no man has ever fucked me like you do."
He stared at her. "Huh? And you decided to tell me this at two in the morning? Well, okay. Is that good or bad? I can't tell."
"Good."
"Oh. Then good."
"I, I suppose your lots some women fucked you like I–"
"Not that again," he complained. "Will you get over that, Moira! No. No other woman has ever fucked me like you, all right?"
"Okay, John. Just checking."
"Just checking," he grumbled. "Quit checking, would you? I'm tired of it. All those needless comparisons. I don't ask about your few, few men, do I?"
"No, well, sometimes you do," she reminded.
"Hardly ever. Of course, I guess I shouldn't need to, being so few. Knowing we're doing things you've never done. I bring you in ways you've never experienced. I give you every opportunity to fully experience every sexual part of your–"
"Okay, John! Enough!"
He grinned. "You started it, baby. Like you always do."
"What do you expect, John?" She sighed. "You and your fucking lots some women. Four on Atlantis right now! Four!" she pouted.
He sighed. Had hoped she had forgotten that. "What? What about them? Did you think I was a monk before we met? Oh, I know, you thought quite the opposite, didn't you? Well, sorry, baby, I can't change my past. I can't change the fact of those lots some women. I'm yours now so why does it matter? I'm not obsessing over your few, few men, and the fact that they were fucking pitiful lovers now am I?" He tried to ignore the irony of his words. Given recent events. When he had remembered Moira. The compromising position with Susan.
"No. You're exulting over it," she observed, irritated. "You are such a smug bastard at times."
"Yeah, I am," he agreed. "The ways I can bring you, baby. Make you want me. Hunger for me. Beg for me to take you over and over. To fuck that sweet, tight pussy until I think I'm going to die of pleasure."
"John!" She stared at him, startled by his crude language, brutal assessment.
He touched her arm. "Sorry. You started it. Shit, you keep my cock so hard I can barely keep it down at times."
"John! Cut it out!"
"It's true, Moira. You once told me I can make you wet with a look. Well, you can make me hard with one sound. One soft sound. So we're even, I think."
She sighed. Reclined to snuggle against him once more. "What the hell is wrong with us, John?"
He kissed her. "Nothing. It's release, Moira. Sleep. We need to make the most of tomorrow."
John woke. Rolled onto his side. Sat, finding himself alone. He heard the shower running, smiled. Got up, pulled on the robe. He sauntered to the phone to order breakfast. He waited until the water stopped. Waited until the door opened. Frowned. Moira was combing her wet hair. She was fully dressed. A multi-colored sweater, jeans. "Hey! I said no clothes."
She rolled her eyes, moved to the bed to pull on her boots. "Bathroom is yours. Did you order–"
"Breakfast? Yes. Be here in twenty. What do you want to do today? Besides having hours and hours of continual--"
"Sex? No. I want to go for a hike, take some pictures. It's so beautiful here."
"Hike? In the snow?"
"Yes."
"In the snow?"
"Yes. What?" she asked at his stare. "It will be fun, John. The last snow of the season."
"In the snow?"
"Will you stop saying that! Go!" She pointed to the bathroom.
He smiled. "In the snow?" He laughed at her scowl, entered the bathroom.
Moira shook her head. Cleared the table and answered the door as the food was delivered. She uncovered the plates, smirked at the assortment. "John!"
John emerged, clean-shaven. Clad in a cream-colored sweater and jeans. "What? Not to your liking, sweetheart?"
"Hilarious, John." She sat, smiled. "Caramel pancakes, caramel syrup, caramel crunch cereal!"
He laughed. "I'm just anticipating your every desire, Moira." He sat next to her. Eyed his waffles. "We can save the caramel syrup for later, right? Ow!" he complained as she elbowed him.
"Shut up and eat, flyboy!" She laughed, began to eat. He grinned, ate quickly. When she finished Moira stood, moved to tie her hair back. She put on her coat. "Are you up for a hike or are you going to whine about the cold and the snow?"
John was staring at the caramel bottle. Remembering it had been the trigger. Remembering his guilt over where he had been when he had recalled his wife. He shoved it aside, stood. Moved to pull on his boots. "I don't whine," he complained.
"You do pout," she asserted.
"Shut up, Moira." He smiled at her. Stood. Grabbed his coat. "All right, baby, lead on. The things I do for you, Moira Sheppard."
She laughed. "With me, flyboy. It will be fun! The scenery is breathtaking. And if we're lucky we may see some elk or some deer. They'll be up at these higher elevations to graze," she explained, leading him out of the room. He inwardly sighed, fondly listened as he followed her.
The air was crisp, cold. Bracing. John shoved his hands into his pockets, indulgently following Moira along a snowy, icy trail that wound through towering fir trees. Disappointed that the coat she wore concealed her rear from view he watched her swinging ponytail instead. Hardly taking note of their surroundings. Glancing at the trees, the snow. The clear blue sky. Moira was describing the types of wildlife in the area, had somehow segued into the prehistoric climate which sounded better to him, warmer, balmy. And then to the prehistoric mega fauna, citing examples they had found in Pleistocene Park. He shook his head fondly as she rambled on and on, hardly believing he had not only fallen hard for a scientist but had married one.
Moira whirled suddenly. "Are you even listening to me, John?" she challenged at his silence.
He nearly crashed into her, slid. Caught himself but slid again and fell backwards. Arms flailing as his hands flew out of his pockets too late. He crashed onto his butt, legs sprawled. The snow pluming around him. "I am now," he wryly remarked.
"John! Are you all right?" she asked in concern, but the question ended in a laugh.
"It's not funny, Moira!" he scolded.
"Colonel Sheppard, if only your marines could see you now," she teased. "Don't you harm that fine, fine ass of yours, colonel. That would be criminal." She laughed.
He scowled but smirked. Held out one arm. "Then help me up, baby, before I freeze my fine, fine ass."
"Oh no. I can see what you're thinking."
"Do you? It's not funny, Moira! Come on!"
"No way! You can figure it out, mensa boy."
He replied, "I probably fell asleep listening to you, paleo girl." He laughed at her frown. "Ah. Not so funny now, is it?"
"Yes, it still is. You're the one with your ass in the snow. Not me."
"You think that's funny? Okay." He lunged, pulled her down. "You'll find this hilarious!"
"John!" she cried as he yanked her onto her rear in front of him, between his sprawled legs.
He laughed. "Still think it's funny, baby? Not so funny when it's your own ass in the freezer, now is it? I hate to freeze that pert little ass but at least I will be able to thaw it out later."
She laughed. "All right! You made your point, sweetie! Oh! Look!" She sat as he did. A herd of elk bounded across the trail, across the snow. Down the mountainside. Pale beige coats blending with the rocks and the dirt. Majestic antlers on the males. "I wonder what spooked them," she commented.
"Probably us. Probably you bouncing on that pert little ass."
"No. Ssh. Keep still."
He heard the warning in her voice. Swiftly slid his hand back to the holster on his leg. Drew his gun. Held it out towards the direction the elk had come.
She caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. Saw the gun. "John? No, no, please!"
"Only if I have to, honey," he assured. Waited, as still as she was. A light snow had begun to fall. There was no noise. Only the leaden silence from the heavy, drifting clouds obscuring the blue sky. Suddenly it appeared. Like a white phantom. A pure white mountain lion stalking gracefully across the snow.
Moira gasped in delight, surprise. Began to take pictures with the barest of motions. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
John straightened, fingers closing securely on the gun. Training it on the big cat as it moved. "Mountain lion. Aren't they brown?" he asked into her ear.
"Yes. An albino. So beautiful. See the red pigmentation of the eyes?" she instructed. The cat stopped. Seeing them. Moira held her breath, frozen in place. John was deathly still behind her. Gun poised. Finger on the trigger. Ready to click back the safety with his thumb. The cat froze for a moment. As if assessing this new threat. Then sprang across the trail, moving silently into the trees and down the mountainside. Moira released the breath she had been holding. Lowered the camera. John's hold relaxed on the gun but he touched her arm.
"Wait," he said quietly, halting her motion to rise. His words plumed in the cold air. His breath was warm on her rosy cheek.
"Cougars hunt alone," she whispered, but waited. A hawk circled overhead. Circled. Was gone.
"All right," he said after a few minutes. "My balls are about to freeze off. Move slowly."
"John!" she scolded, but stood. Brushed the snow off her pants, her coat. Turned to see him stand, then turn back the way they had come. Look around carefully, gaze narrowing as he scanned the trees. "We're safe, John. Really. Please, put the gun away."
"No. Not until I'm sure. I'll just scare it if I have to fire the gun. Head back down the trail. I'll be on your six."
"I bet you will, sweetie. This isn't the Pegasus galaxy, John. There's not a threat around every corner," she reminded.
"I know. Go on. I wasn't kidding about my balls."
She smirked, began to walk back down the trail. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
"No. I can't say I have. Apart from you."
She smiled, glanced back at him. He was placing the gun into his holster, satisfied. She caught his free hand, led him down the trail. "Careful, sweetie, you'll get a romantic reputation."
"I don't think so, baby. I'm the sex guy, remember? Or I was until my balls froze off."
She laughed. "Where are we–"
"That little restaurant at the side of the hill," he pointed. "We'll have lunch there, then trek back to our room. And you better make it worth my while, baby."
"Oh, I will, sweetie. If you can thaw your balls, that is."
He laughed. Smacked her rear. "That's not all I'm thawing."