Camouflage5
Moira stared as John moved awkwardly to his feet after he freed her arms. "What?"
"You heard. Let's go, baby."
"No. I've told you, John, you don't need one!"
"Moira, until we discuss this particular topic I'm wearing one. Now let's go!" His voice was harsh. Frustrated yet again.
Moira shook her head. "What topic?"
"What do you think?" he retorted. Staring down at her. The open shirt. Her breasts bulging out of the bra. Her hair messily falling about her. "Since you obviously don't want to get pregnant right now you should be applauding me, not chastising me. What, you have a hang-up with condoms now?"
"I don't want to talk about it! There is no need for you wear one, John! I want you commando. But if you are going to insist then fine! No sex. Go fuck one of your four ex-lovers and use it there! Did you use them there?"
He frowned. "Yes, I did. What the fuck is your hang-up, Moira? I'd prefer to go commando too, you know, but after this last scare we need to be–"
"But it wasn't a scare! I was sick! Not pregnant! You jumped to the wrong conclusion, not me!" She stood. Furious. "I don't want to talk about this, all right? I only wanted to have sex, John! To make things right between us! All of a sudden you decide we need to be extra careful? We are being careful!"
"Until we discuss this properly I want to be doubly careful, all right?" he argued, becoming angry again. "The last thing we need right now is an unexpected pregnancy. We'll decide when the time is right to–"
"You mean you'll decide! Damn it, John! I don't want to talk about this! I just wanted you! You! I just wanted sex!"
He smirked. Becoming aroused by her anger. The open shirt. Her swirling hair. He wanted her. "You can have me, have sex, Moira. Guaranteed. Just let me put on a–"
"Fuck you, John! I don't want–"
"Fuck me? I thought that was the idea, baby! I'd like nothing better. Why the hell is this upsetting you this much? Have you never had sex like that? Or have you? It won't hurt you, baby, I promise. It won't be any different...well, a little, but more for me than for you." He moved to touch her arm. "Is this how it's going to be, Moira?"
She slapped his hand away. Hit his arm. "Yes, John! It's all or nothing! Either you give me your naked cock or no cock at all!"
He smirked, trying not to laugh. "I see. Well, when you put it like that, baby...geez! What's a guy to do?"
"Man up and make a decision, sweetie. That's if you can."
"We can make it fun, Moira. Erotic. You can put it on me, inch by inch."
"Naked or nothing, John. Those are my terms." She turned away from him. Frustrated. Wanting him. Knew the anger, the annoyance would turn to hot passion. Wild sex.
"Terms? Terms now? At least tell me why you have such a strenuous objection to them. You don't like them? Don't like the feel of them inside you? Inside that sweet, sweet center of yours?" he added, voice low as his stared at the fall of her hair down her back. Her rear snug in the khaki pants. His fingers itched to grab, to squeeze. "Afraid we'll go through my whole supply in one night?"
"Shut up, John!"
"Or is it you think I'll go out and fuck some other woman since I've started using them again? Is that it?" he snapped. Tension coiling.
"No. You wouldn't do that."
Her soft, calm voice soothed him. "That's right, baby. I wouldn't. Not like..." He caught himself before the rest slipped out again. Cursed inwardly.
She turned to him. Eyes moist. But anger sparkled. "You just can't let it go, can you? Even now. You just can't see past your own ego and your own–"
"Fuck this," he growled. Grabbed her and kissed her. Hard. Shoving his body along hers. Thrusting himself against her. Demanding. Ignoring everything else but the need, the hunger. The thrumming lust between them that screamed for release, for fulfillment. Nothing else mattered to him at that moment.
Moira pushed, hit, clawed but he hauled her to the floor. Shoved her onto her back and threw himself on top of her. Kissing her repeatedly, roughly. Nearly biting her as he devoured her mouth. Body shoving on hers repeatedly. He grabbed her arms, pinned them over her head as she arched into him. Legs opening even as she bucked under him, as if she would throw him off her. But his weight pinned her, held her in place. He trailed kisses along her throat. Nibbled her earlobe. Biting and licking until she whimpered. The flood of desire a hot river in her body.
Moira shivered with need, with lust. John's hands slid down her arms down to her breasts. He freed her. Yanked the shirt open. Undid the bra and freed her breasts. Fondling as he greedily kissed her. Over and over until she felt dizzy, lost her breath.
John rolled off her. "Take off your pants," he ordered. Undid his own, yanking open his shorts as his bulging erection was painful. "Moira!"
She caught her breath. Had nearly drowned under his kisses. Possession. She undid her pants, wiggled out of them. Paused, fingers on her pale green panties. John was watching her avidly. She licked her lips. Ran her fingers along her crotch. Felt her wetness, her readiness. Her need already throbbing for him. She arched, fingers playing, probing. She murmured, moaned, arousing herself under his hot gaze. Knew he would get off on it. "Oh John," she whimpered.
John made an inarticulate sound deep in his throat. He grabbed her hand. Shoved it out of the way. Yanked down the panties. Feeling her readiness. The aroma of arousal sweet on the air. Driving him into lustful impatience. He slid over her, shoving her thighs wide. Kissed her and ran his mouth down to her breasts again. Tongue teasing. Sucking until she cried out, arching and squirming under him. Fingers clawing his back.
Moira whimpered, feeling him so ready, so hard. Jerking against her thigh before he abruptly thrust into her. She cried out his name, arching and exulting in the fullness of him, the length of him as he plied her thoroughly. Grunting, groaning as he pounded her into the floor. Faster, faster as he craved release, craved the litany of his name escaping her lips as she came. Craved the feel of her enfolding him, squeezing him, slick and hot and pulsing with his every motion.
John couldn't stop. Moira's cries spurring him on and on as she sobbed her climax, scratching along his back like a cat in heat. Her sounds propelling him to go harder, harder until he reached his own release. Shuddering as he expended himself into her, easing the tension. The anger turned to wild passion, possession. His mind was clearing as his body became sated at last. Realized they were having exuberant sex in the middle of the exercise room, on the floor.
Moira gasped, relaxing as he collapsed on top of her. She blinked, trying to clear her vision of the tears she had shed. John had brought her to sobbing pleasure again, as he so often did. She stroked his back, his hair. Melting beneath him as the intense pleasure echoed, echoed. So intimately entwined with John she couldn't think straight. Didn't feel the hard floor beneath her. Gently, gently she stroked his back, his hair as he rested upon her. His breathing slowing, calming. "John...I...I'm sorry..."
John shifted on her. Drowsing in the washes of pleasure that had inundated his body. In Moira's passion and his own. "You don't have to apologize for sex, baby," he muttered against her breasts. Deliberately misunderstanding. Hoping she would leave it alone. Knowing she wouldn't.
"Not that," she chided, tapping his shoulder. Swallowed. Nervous. Knew she had to broach the subject now when he was more amenable. More likely to be sympathetic after sex. Especially exuberant sex. "John...I'm sorry. I never meant...I...I love you, John. I love you. I never meant to, to hurt you, or to erode your, your trust in me...I just...John, I'm sorry, so–"
"No." He lifted his head. Touched her lips. Wiped the tears from her rosy cheeks. "All that love for me, Moira. I get it. All that love for him. You've seen me at my worst...you've seen the darkness in me, well, some of it...and still you love me. Love him."
"John, I don't–" she tried to protest, but he kissed her. Tasting her tears. Tears of pleasure, of sorrow, of distress. "Ssh, Moira." He stroked her cheek, a tender caress as he stared into her eyes. "I do trust you. I'm sorry. I know I've been a prick, and I'm sorry. Alpha male, you know. Very territorial. Possessive. And this...shit...my rival is...myself. Sort of..."
"No, John. You don't have a rival. I'm with you. I love you. I chose you." She kissed him, shifting under him. Stroking his arm, wishing he had removed his shirt. "John–"
"No more post-coital, baby. We're okay." He kissed her again, a soft, languorous kiss. Slid his body teasingly along hers. "Hmm...again?"
"What?" She smiled, relaxing. "Oh John, you...no!" He laughed as she pushed him off her. He rolled onto his back as she sat, staring round. "Shit! Anyone could come in on us! What were you thinking, sweetie?"
John smiled as she scrambled into her clothes. "Me? You're the one who cleared the room, baby. Who practically attacked me when I was down. What were you thinking? Besides having sex, I mean. Luscious sex on the floor. Look at that equipment, Moira. Think what we could have done...how I could have taken that pert little ass," he mused, lazily fixing his clothes.
Moira smirked. Stood. Brushing off her rumpled shirt, pants. Running her fingers through her tangled hair. "Hilarious, John. Let's go! I need your help on the flash drive, and we should check with Carson to see if he has discovered anything about that virus, enzyme, whatever that infected me," she continued, heading for the door. "Oh! What are you going to do about that planet, John? I mean are you going to send a team to investigate or go yourself? I should probably go to if there is any biological or...John?" She sighed. He was still prone on the floor, zipping up his pants. "Will you move that fine, fine ass of yours, colonel?"
He smiled. Stood. "You know, Moira, now that I think about it we could go into the back. There's a pulley there you could hang onto as I take you from behind and–"
"Shut up, sweetie! Come on!" She took his hand, led him out of the room. "First we need to eat. I'm starving! Then the flash drive. Then Carson. Then the planet if you–"
"Already sent a team there, baby. Don't you worry. They're do back in..." he glanced at his watch, "about half an hour now. So yeah, let's eat. Do the flash drive, then see Carson. Then I'll debrief the team and we can go from there. Leaving us all night to experiment."
"Hilarious, John. No. Work."
"Oh, it will be a workout, baby, believe me," he teased.
Moira sat at the table in her room, nibbling on a sandwich. Perusing the files on the flash drive again. Mind straying to John yet again. The things he had said to her. Seemingly forgiving her but she wasn't quite certain. The exuberant sex on the floor of the exercise room. She shook free of the erotic images, feelings. The blinking cursor caught her eye. Curious she typed in the name of the planet they had discovered with the Ancient Chair device. M35PF7. A name popped onto the screen, startling her. The cursor blinking below it for a response.
Cuchulainn.
She stared at it. Snatching some fries from John's plate. She sipped a soda, considering.
"Okay, that seems to have done the job," John stated, emerging from the bathroom. He wiped his hands on a towel. "Can't have that shower head loose, now can we. Hey! Did you eat all of my fries?" he complained, eying his less then full plate.
Moira smiled, shrugged. "Sorry, sweetie. I was hungry." She glanced at him as he pulled a chair next to hers. Sat. Grabbed his sandwich and took a big bite.
"What's that?" he asked round a mouthful, chewing. "Clutchchain?"
"Coohulane," she corrected, sounding it out for him. "It's a name. From Irish mythology." She continued to his blank look, "It means Culan's hound. Cuchulainn was the greatest of Ireland's heroes from the golden age. A fighter, a lover, a champion. Wow, he knew Gaelic!" she exclaimed, suddenly realizing. Looked back at the screen. "Or they had way cooler code names than we do."
"I like our code names," John retorted. He sipped his beer. "Great hero, did you say? Fighter?
Lover? Yeah, that'd be me," he modestly asserted.
She laughed. "Yes, John. Lover of many, many, many women. Like you." He frowned. "And a great fighter, a champion. So the answering name is...Emer."
"And he's–"
"She's his wife. His much put-upon wife," Moira explained. "The only one who had his heart. The other women just enjoyed his, um, his–"
"Cock?" he helpfully supplied. Smirked. "So that's you then. Got it. Except you have both. My heart and my cock, that is." He watched her type it in. The screen was blank. "Huh. You sure you got it right?"
"Yes," she said, typing it in again. Frowned as the screen remained blank. The cursor blinking.
John sipped his beer. "Maybe he didn't, then. I know zilch about Irish mythology."
"But you're not him, remember? Shit. Maybe this part was damaged," she suggested, glaring at the screen.
"Or he got it wrong. Hmm...maybe instead of his wife's name it was a lover's name," he suggested. Took another bite of his sandwich. Saw her glaring at him. "What?"
"Shut up!"
"It's not me, remember? I'm just saying, is all. Try one of the most well-known ones. Go on."
"Yours, or his?"
"Hilarious, Moira. One of Chuck's."
"Huh? Oh, Cuchulainn's." She sighed. "Okay."
"You forget, Moira, he never married you, I mean her. God I hate these parallel universes and alternate reality crap," he grumbled.
"Hmm...so many to choose from...guess you have the same problem, huh, John?"
"Hilarious, Moira! Cut it out!" he flared.
"Four ex-lovers in Atlantis," she grumbled, but considered the problem at hand. Nibbled her lower lip, thinking. John watched her. Waited, waited for that soft, soft sound he found so arousing. Hearing it he smiled.
"Fuck that turns me on," he muttered, touching her thigh.
"Got it! I think." She smiled. "Morrigan."
"Who is–"
"Goddess of war and fury. A death omen. Death as a lover, a trio of war goddesses. Very appropriate for a warrior, don't you think? A reckless warrior who would risk his life over and over to save others. As if he had a deep, dark death wish himself." Her words were terse. Accusatory.
John scowled. "I don't think you..." he paused as the screen lit up. He nearly jumped as his face filled the screen. Expression grave. There was a cut on his brow. His jaw stubbled. Green eyes intense. Nearly threatening.
Moira stared, eyes widening. "Colonel," she whispered, awkwardly glanced at John, then back to the screen.
"Moira," came the familiar yet slightly different voice, "this planet could be crucial. In my reality we didn't get there in time before the invasion. But your research was right about there being a third planet in the sequence of enzyme engineering. The enzyme's protein, Moira, it has to be the key. Check for that and for the facility. It was abandoned here but may not be in yours." He glanced to the left suddenly, then moved in closer. "It all comes together. Second queen to pawn. Fons et origo. In rerum natura." He gave a lopsided smile. "Find the beginning to find the end, Moira. Only you can do it."
The screen went blank. The file closed.
John stared, uncomfortable. Disconcerted by the sight of his dark side self. He looked at Moira. She was still staring at the screen. Gaze pensive, mournful. A flare of jealousy, anger struck him. Seeing the sympathy in her eyes. He slammed his palm on the table. Startling her.
"John?" she exclaimed. A rush of guilt assaulted her as if he had caught her with another man.
"What did that mean? Obviously it was about that planet, but what was the rest? It sounded like a chess move! Second queen to pawn. Well?"
"I don't know. I've never played chess," she admitted, baffled by the reference.
"Then what was the Latin? When the hell did I, did he learn Latin?" he snapped. Shook his head at the confusion of it all.
"The source and origin," she translated. "In the nature of things." She considered. "The enzyme, the Wraith, the origin of the species? The modern species, I mean. The enzyme's protein. I'm not sure...I need...I need to see him, er, it again, to–"
"No!" He pulled out the flash drive.
"John! What are you–"
"He's not me, Moira! Don't you see what he's doing? He's playing you, playing on your feelings for me. For me! To get you to that planet. It's a set-up," he explained, trying to dampen down his anger, his hostility for his darker self.
"What? Of course it isn't! I need to see the message again! That planet holds the answers! At least the colonel suspected it did. Of course I have to go there!"
"No. And that's final," he decided, voice low.
"John! Even if it is a trap I still need to go to–"
"I said no. And that is final!" He stood. Flash drive clenched in his fist. He headed for his room. Stiff strides betraying his roiling emotions.