Conditioned Aversion11
Moira turned on the love seat to watch John frantically search through his luggage. Tossing clothing aside. Cursing he moved to his coat. Searching the pockets. Then to his pants. Searching every pair. He moved back to the luggage, dumping the contents on the floor. "John? What is it? Did you lose something?"
"Hang on! Shit, I know I had it! Shit!" He moved to the floor. On his hands and knees as he looked under the bed. "Ah! There you are you little shit! Moira?" He peered over the bed at her. S aw her stare, her smile. "Turn around. This is a surprise."
"Okay, John." She did so, stared at the fake fire. "I'm glad you found it, whatever it is."
"So am I, baby. Crap." He moved to sit next to her. Plopped the item into her lap.
She stared down at it. Smiled. "Oh John!" It was a small teddy bear, white with green hearts. "This is so cute! I don't know why you were stressing over this." She kissed him.
"Did you notice his armband?" he asked.
"His what?" She looked at the bear. Saw the armband wrapped in a soft material. She pulled it open. Gasped. Stared. "Oh my God..." It was a ring. A stunningly beautiful blue-green emerald in the shape of a heart. It flashed brilliantly in the fake firelight. Set in gold with open scroll work down the sides. "Oh my God! Oh my God! John!" She nearly jumped to her feet.
John feigned ignorance, delighted at her surprise, her joy. "What? It came with cute plastic bauble so I–"
"John! This is a Colombian emerald! Heart-shaped! At least, at least four, four carats!"
"Five, actually, but who's counting?"
"Five! Five! Oh my God! The diamonds! This, this is Celtic knot work in hearts on the sides!"
"Is it? I thought it was just some squiggly lines," he teased.
"John! Oh my God! You, you..." she looked at him, finally tearing her wide-eyed gaze from the ring.
"Did I do good or what? Rocked your world, baby, in more ways than one, huh? I...oh oh."
"John!" She hugged him, nearly knocking him off the couch. Kissed him passionately. Pulled back from him. "I can't accept this! It must have cost a fortune! You, you had to have had this designed! Didn't you? I don't care how rich you are this must have set you back a–"
"I had it made for you, my Moira, yes, and I don't care how much it cost. The look on your face was priceless. I want to spoil you, sweetheart. It's our six-month anniversary, after all."
"John..." She felt tears.
He took the bear from her. Took the ring and slipped it onto her finger. "I know, I know, it's wildly extravagant and you'll hardly ever wear it in Atlantis but I wanted you to have it anyway."
"Oh John...you, you..." She kissed him, sliding off the love seat to the floor. Pulling him with her.
"I just bought it so I could get into your pants," he teased, opening her robe. His.
"John, oh John, you only have to smile to get into my pants," she informed.
"Oh. Now you tell me," he grumbled. Kissed her as he moved along her body. "Baby, why don't you shower me with your exuberance and then we'll go on our date."
"I love you, John! I love you, wait, what date?" she asked, pausing in her passion. But she gasped as he kissed her, entered her suddenly. "Oh John, John, go for ten?"
"Absolutely, baby, this will have to be a quickie, though, but you'll still come."
"So will you, sweetie! Wait! What date?"
"We're going out to dinner. Some fancy shindig this place is throwing. So we're dressing to the nines and going on a date." He kissed her, moving to completion when she stopped him again.
"Wait!" He groaned. "I suppose you planned all of this too? Got us fancy clothes and–"
"Yes, which will be here in fifteen so let me finish this deployment, will you?" he grumbled.
"Wait! What kind of dress did you oh John, oh John!" Her question disappeared into a passionate reaction as he ignored her words, began thrusting in earnest, nibbling her earlobe. Bringing them both to a satisfactory conclusion.
"John! What the hell is this?" Moira's irate voice shouted from the bathroom at him.
John smirked. "I believe it's called an evening dress, Moira," he sarcastically noted, donning his own attire with quick motions.
"Hilarious, John! It looks more like a swimsuit coverup!" Moira stared at the slinky black material snaking through her hands. He laughed. "That's it! You are no longer choosing my clothes or my underwear!"
He laughed, adjusting his tie. "Fine by me, baby, as long as you pick the right things. Sexy. Skimpy. Tight. Lots of skin showing. Sexy as hell, Moira."
"Yeah, thanks for that!" she snapped playfully. "Damn! And get a bigger size next time, would you? I'm going to freeze to death in this! What were you thinking? No! Don't answer that!" She emerged, still complaining. "I can hardly move, or breathe in his thing!" She tugged at the fabric. "It's way too clingy and these high heels have to be buckled so I won't be able to just kick them off when we come back! And the dress, what there is of it is way too clingy! Its hugging my ass tighter than a pair of jeans! And if I move the wrong way my breasts will pop out and say hi!" She turned in a circle, tugging, pulling, nearly falling. "And the slit is almost too high on my leg since the dress is so tight and I had to, oh, I shouldn't tell you that just yet to...oh my God!" she ended in an exclamation as she saw him. Her mouth dropped open.
John was standing near the bed. A quirky smile on his handsome face. Brilliant green eyes full of merriment, of love, of smouldering passion as his took in every inch of her. From her hair swept up to one side to fall deliciously down one bare shoulder. The black dress's halter top had a plunging neckline, which shoved the swells of her breasts and outlined every curve of her body. Clung to her hips. Fell to her ankles. The slit teasingly shoving her bare leg as she moved. The bare back plunging down to reveal a hint of her shapely rear. "Fuck," he said softly, then slowly smiled. Enjoying the effect he was having on her.
Moira stared. John was clad in a full tuxedo. Black bow tie, black vest over a crisp white shirt. Black jacket and pants, shiny black shoes. Hair combed but still disordered. A faint trace of stubble on his jaw. "Oh. My. God," she repeated each word in a startled hush.
"What?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "Is this tie crooked? I hate these things," he grumbled as she walked over to him. Touched his arm.
"You better bring your gun."
Her softly serious tone amused him. "Why?"
"I'll be fending off women all night, John! My God! You, you are absolutely stunning! So handsome, so gorgeous...I can't...I can't..."
"Can't what, baby? As long as you can open your legs for me that's all I need." He smirked at her glare. "I don't care if you hate the dress, Moira. You look hot. So damn sexy. I want to take you right here, right now."
"You clean up pretty well, colonel," she teased, deflecting her astonishment. She kissed him.
He pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately. "Moira, my Moira, tonight is ours. To celebrate. Let's go. Wait! I almost forgot..." He felt around in his pockets. "Hey, will you move that way again so I can say hi to the girls?" he teased.
"Hilarious, John!" She fussed over the fabric. "I don't have a coat to cover this, and I'll probably fall in the snow." She looked up to see him crossing to the luggage again. "Oh no. John?"
"Crap. I just had it in my hand. Damn it!" He searched. Searched the garment bag. "Ah." He turned, hand behind his back. Smile on his face. "If you fall I'll catch you. Give me your wrist."
She stared. "My what? You, oh no! No, John! You didn't! You didn't spend more on a..."
He smiled. Held up a colorful bracelet. Multi-colored gems sparkled in the light. "You need some color, baby, besides those sparkling eyes and rosy lips." He took her wrist. Fastened the bracelet on her. "Don't fuss, Moira. They're only semi-precious stones. Well, there are some exotics too, but mainly it's just a simple–"
"John! It's beautiful! You shouldn't have! The gemstones are so big! You shouldn't have!" She flung herself into his arms, kissing him. Moved back to examine the bracelet. "Just how rich are you?"
"A lot less now," he quipped. "No, I'm joking," he assured to her alarm. "Don't you worry, baby. What's mine is yours." He held out his arm. "Shall we?"
She took his arm. "You...all of this is going back, John! All of it! All–"
"No, Moira. It's all yours. Now hush!"
"John, oh John, we can't–"
"We can. Let's go. Oh, and Moira, save oh John for when I am inside you, baby." He laughed as she elbowed him on the way out the door.
Moira's hold tightened on his arm as he led her into the restaurant. Chills coursed down her skin but the warmth of the room began to envelop her. It was beautiful. Lit only by candles. Crystal chandeliers glittered. Couples danced on the marble floor. Tables were spaced apart, creating an intimate, cozy atmosphere. John guided her to one. Pulled out a chair for her. Sat opposite her. Took the menu. Ordered for both of them as Moira stared round.
He smirked at her expression. "Don't get out much?"
"What?" She met his gaze, scowled. "Shut up, John. This might be nothing out of the ordinary for you rich folk but for us poor folk this is high and mighty."
"Very cute." He nodded as the wine was poured. Licked his lips. "A toast."
She groaned. "Not again."
He smiled. "Behave yourself. At least for now. Later you can be as naughty as you want."
"As you want, you mean. So, a toast?" She raised her glass. "John?"
He lifted his gaze to hers. Lifted his glass. "Sorry. Your breasts are distracting me. Come out and say hi, girls."
She sighed. "Hilarious, John. Toast?"
"Huh? Oh. Oh, yeah. A toast. To us. To our six-month anniversary. To you, Moira."
She waited. But he clinked his glass against hers, about to drink. "Wait! That's it? No protestations of love, of romance?"
"I wore a tux," he complained. "I'm not that guy, not with words, anyway," he added with a sly smile.
"Fine. A toast. Come on, flyboy!" She held her glass up, waited. He sighed, held up his again.
She considered. "To us. To our six-month anniversary. To you, John." He was about to lower his glass. "Wait!" She considered, became serious. "I never thought I would feel like this again. I never thought I would fall in love so completely, so utterly, and have that love returned to me. To find a man who understands me. Even the darkness within me. Who tolerates my eccentricities and actually has an interest in my profession. Who loves me and wants me and makes me feel loved, wanted. Cherished, desired. Protected. Who makes my breath catch in my throat, who makes my heart flutter, my knees quake. Who knows how to give me the most erotic pleasure I have ever experienced. Who makes me laugh. Who is funny, smart, and accomplished. A competent leader. And not too bad-looking either," she concluded, teasing. "To you, Colonel John Sheppard. My love. My life. My husband." She clinked her glass against his. Drank. "That's how you make a toast, sweetie. Wow! This is kind of strong. The wine, I mean. You...oh, John?"
John was staring at her, enraptured, flattered. Enamored. Swept away by her words, her love, her passion. Her serious voice. Her sincerity. Her beauty in the candlelight. "Fuck," he whispered.
She set down her glass, shook her head fondly. "As succinct as always, John. Or did one of the girls fall out?" She looked down at her chest.
He laughed. "I wish! Damn, Moira! Your toast put mine to shame. Can I just say ditto and move on?" He downed the wine.
She smiled. "This time, sweetie. But next time I want a full, flowery romantic speech."
He gave her a pained expression. "Great." He smiled as the music became inviting. "Do you know how to tango, sweetheart?" He stood. Offered his hand.
She smiled. Stood. Took his hand. "Try to keep up with me, flyboy. Oh!" She stopped him, hand on his chest. "Don't dip me too low!"
"The girls?" he fondly asked, gaze lowering.
She bit her lower lip as his eyes moved back to her face. "No. Um...the slit..." She stepped closer. Whispered in his ear, "the dress is so damn clingy I had to go, um, commando."
John's eyes widened. He beamed. Grinned. "Well well, happy anniversary to me. Let's go!" He ran a hand down her bare back to her rear, gently squeezed.
"John! You–" But he swept her into the dance. They stepped in tandem, hands clasped, arms extended. Bodies close. Expressions playful. Flirtatious as the music became an erotic challenge. Step after step, bodies brushing each other, then apart. Moira sliding her leg along his hip, his thigh. John dipping her carefully. Swinging her round. Stalking across the floor. Turning, hips bumping, pulses pounding in the art of seduction, of dance. He caught her, spun her. She whirled, slid onto the floor, back bent, between his legs. He spun, scooped her up to her feet. Flung her back in a dip and ran his mouth down her skin between her breasts. She ran her hand up his thigh as he straightened them. Thrust her body against his. She kissed him before stepping around him. Playfully pinched his rear, then whirled as he turned, pulling her back to him with an admonishing look. Dancing the tango steps once more. One final dip and then the music ended. Applause filled the air.
Moira was flushed. Eyes bright as he escorted her back to the table. He poured more wine. She drank thirstily, smiled as she gazed upon him. Dreamy expression on her face. "Oh John. You are amazing!"
"I know," he agreed. Drank. "Almost had some nipple action there, baby."
"What? Oh shit!" She adjusted the dress as he laughed. "Shut up, John!" She colored, dropping her hands to her lap as their food arrived. She fanned herself. "Is it hot in here?"
He smirked. "No. Go easy on that wine, baby. It's stronger than what we had earlier."
She sipped some. Pointed. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Maybe. We do have those manacles," he teased. Began to eat. "Rodney would kill for this food."
"Yes, it is good," she agreed. Eating. Staring. He was fascinating. Gorgeous. The candlelight playing upon him. Brilliant green eyes sparkling. He was eating with big bites. Enjoying the food, the wine. Licking his lips.
He noted her rapt stare. "Uh, Moira? Eat."
"What? Oh, oh...I can't stop staring at you, John. You are a vision. So gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous it makes me melt."
He smiled. "You can melt later, Moira, underneath me. Eat. You will need your strength. That's an order."
"Yes, sir. Anything you want, sweetie. I do mean anything." She ran her foot up his ankle, making him drop his fork. "Anything. Anywhere. Any how..." She giggled.
John smirked, took the nearly empty wine glass from her. "Okay, enough. Enough wine for you, baby. Eat. We can play later."
"Promise?"
"Promise," he assured, sighing fondly. Watching her finally resume her meal. Candlelight glittered on her bracelet, on her ring. Gleamed on her bare skin. He scanned the curves of the dress. Knew now she was naked everywhere underneath it. He longed to slide his hand up the slit, to touch, to tease. To see is she was becoming as aroused as he was.
Moira was oblivious to his erotic thoughts. Enjoying the food. Enjoying the buzz from the wine. She sipped some water, sat back feeling giddy. "Jo-hn," she teased. "Oh John, oh John."
He grinned. "Hush, Moira. Damn, you are drunk!"
"No! Just a little tipsy. Whew! It's hot in here. L et's go! I want to have sex with you!" She colored as the waiter coughed, suddenly there. "Oops!"
He laughed. "Check, please. She wants to have sex with me."
"Um, very good, sir," the waiter stammered.
"Oh yes, " Moira purred, chin in hand as she stared raptly at John. "He is very good. Very good! You have no idea how incredibly good he is! Why, he gives me an orgasm every single–"
"Moira! Let's go before you say any more." He stood, caught her arm as she stood. "Shit. I'm going to have to sober you up a little. Just a little."
She giggled, taking his arm. Whispered, "there's nothing little about that, colonel!" She pointed to his crotch.
John sighed. "Okay, then. Maybe more than a little sobering up."