Parasitism2
Moira sat in the cafeteria, eating her lunch and checking a data pad at the same time. She looked up from time to time, wondering where John had been all day. Had barely seen him as she had been busy in the biology lab all morning. She wryly wondered if he had managed to get out of bed. Smiled at the thought.
John stood in line, watching her. Her serious expression as she viewed the data pad. Her hair pulled back into the ubiquitous ponytail, all business. The flattering pale pink shirt and the khaki pants he so loved because of the way they hugged her rear. He watched her bite into her sandwich. A little mayonnaise spilled and her tongue flicked to catch it from the corner of her mouth.
"John? Were you going to move or just stand there all day?"
"Huh?" He looked over his shoulder to see Rodney impatiently waiting. "Yeah, I thought I'd stand here all day." He waited, smirked at Rodney's annoyance. Moved along, grabbing a sandwich from the varied selection.
"If you were wondering, and I'm sure you were there's no signal yet. I've got the wide-range sensors scanning, but it's a lost cause. There's no way we'll pick up anything."
"I know, just keep the sensors running." He exited the line, headed for Moira. He stood, watching her. Waiting. But she was engrossed in the screen now, typing. Frowning. Chewing on her lower lip a moment. John waited for that soft sound she made. Smiled hearing it. Cleared his throat to catch her attention.
"What?" she snapped, looking to see who was interrupting. "Oh. John." She stared. He had on a woven deep blue shirt, open at the neck. Tucked haphazardly into a pair of black jeans that seemed molded to his form. Distracted she finally raised her eyes up to his to see his merriment. Enjoyment. "Finally got out of bed, did you?"
"Yes." He sat across from her, set down his tray. "Do you mind?"
"Wow...polite too? Wow."
"Hilarious, Moira." He began to eat. Big bites of his sandwich.
She smiled. Closed the data pad and finished her meal. Gaze wandering over him as he ate. Chewed. Drank some soda. Licked his lips. His hair the usual disordered mess. A shadow of stubble on his jaw. Chest hairs peeking out from the open shirt.
John finished. Sat back, lounging in the chair. Shirt sliding up out of his pants on one side along his long, lean torso as he stretched his arms over his head. "So...Moira...do you know what today is?" he asked. Smiled.
She smiled, enjoying his flirtation. Whatever game he was initiating. "No, John. And now I'm afraid to ask."
He laughed. "You should be, sweetheart."
She sighed happily. "So...John...what day is it?"
"Wednesday, Moira. Hump day," he teased.
She rolled her eyes. "Hilarious, John." She made to stand. "I've got work to do so–"
"It's also give Moira a triple orgasm day," he noted offhandedly. "That is, if you're interested." He ran a hand carelessly through his hair.
Moira stared. Retook her seat. "What? A...how...how in the world would you even...oh, one right after the–"
"Other? No. I mean a triple. Three at once." He held up three fingers. Wiggled his brows at her. Smiled. "Or nearly so. You wouldn't believe the absolute precision and strategy involved. It's all in the positioning and selecting your twenty with the hardest, hardest ordnance."
She gulped at his low, husky tone. At the words. At the lazy posture of his body. At the serious, sensual gaze. "Damn, John...and you talk about my mouth."
He smiled slowly, gaze assessing. Warm. He played his fingers along the table. A tapping rhythm. "Not only my ordnance, Moira. It takes, let's see...it takes several skill sets. Dexterity. Location. Proximity." He licked his lips slowly, leaving the bottom one wet.
Moira's gaze was riveted. She shifted on the chair. Intrigued. Embarrassed. "Hilarious, John," she scolded, but her voice was soft, fraught with desire. "You're obviously teasing me. There's no such thing as a triple. From a physical standpoint alone it would be next to impossible."
"Maybe. For most men. Am I teasing you? Am I?" He tilted his head, green eyes sparkling. "Guess there's only one way to find out, honey. To be sure." He stood. A smooth, almost feline movement of his body. "You just let me know if you want to...assuage that particular craving, Moira. This offer is only good for today. You see," he leaned towards her, hands splayed on the table, voice lowering, "I need to work up to that particular level of, shall we say, expertise and military thrust. Penetration. Repeatedly." He straightened. Swaggered away from the table. "Eyes up, O"Meara," he called over his shoulder. Aware that every woman in the room was watching him, but only caring about one.
Moira smirked, shook her head. Flustered she stood, her body betraying her reactions, her interest. She slipped round the table but dropped her empty tray. Could feel John's hilarity as he glanced back at her. She glared at him, kneeling to lift the tray. She limped out of the cafeteria, pretending she didn't care, wasn't interested at all in his sensual proposal.
John stifled a yawn behind his hand, lounging back in the chair. The conference room was quiet. He tapped the keyboard, finishing another report. "There. Mission's all logged. Any word yet from..." he checked the screen, "M1P349? The one with the village elders?"
"No," Rodney smirked. "Zelenka's still there trying to explain what we're after. It may take a while." Laughter encircled the table. "Even with Teyla helping. Any word from Elizabeth?"
"Not yet," John noted. "She should be back in two days. Mainland?"
"Settlement two is doing well," Jason Reynolds reported. "Settlement three is still having trouble with the–"
"John, I have to ask you if you..." Moira's voice stopped. She froze in the open doorway. "Oh! Sorry! I'll come back."
John smiled. "What is it, Moira? Please," he gestured towards an empty chair.
"It can wait. Sorry to have interrupted you."
"Can it? Can it wait?" he teased. "We're done here. Go. Moira, stay. I want to hear this question."
Moira swore to herself, stood by the wall as the men filed out past her, giving her curious glances. She stepped into the room, closed the door. "Damn it, John, I can't–"
"Can't what? Wait? Then ask, Moira. Please, ask away." He lounged further back in the chair, smiling broadly. "Ah...let me guess. You need a spare?" His gaze narrowed onto her crotch.
"Shut up!" She sighed, moved to him. Sat on the table. "I shouldn't have barged in like that, but you've been in here for hours."
"I know. So...question?"
"Never mind. I'll just–" she was moving but he stopped her, hand on her thigh.
"No, baby. I want your question. I want your gushing exuberance, Moira. I can't think of anything else."
"All right. You're very good at this seductive teasing, John. I'm too distracted to work."
"Who's teasing? I was serious. I am always serious about sex, you know that. And about what today is. Question," he prompted.
She frowned. "I hate–"
"You, yes, baby I know. And you will but it will be worth it. As long as it stays between us this time," he reminded.
"Yes. I'm sorry, John, I just–"
He stood suddenly, kissed her deeply. Opening her lips to his, tongue teasing, darting. He drew back, hands on her thighs. "Question?" he repeated.
"Is there such a thing as a triple or are you just making it all up to tease me or to get laid?" she asked in a rush. As if his kiss had unlocked the words.
He smiled. Considered. "Yes." He stepped away to close the data screen.
"Yes? Yes what? Which?" She stood, touched his arm. "John?"
He met her gaze. "I answered your question, Moira."
She sighed. "Fine. God you can be annoying when you want to be!"
"That's an opinion, not another question."
"John! Yes to what?"
"First, are you saying that you want me to do it?" he retorted slyly.
She sighed. "Never mind! I don't have time for this, and if you were telling the truth, and I did agree to do it, I'd be too loud anyway," she complained. "Besides we agreed to slow it down!" She headed for the door. "Just forget it, John, we need to stop this, to slow this not to speed it up again to esoteric heights! I mean, my God, the double nearly killed me! I can't imagine what a triple would–"
He darted to her, held the door shut as he stood right behind her. "Be the most exquisite pleasure we can have at the same time, Moira. Please, let me enlighten you." His voice was a husky tickle in her ear. He touched her back. "I have arranged a place where no one will hear us, baby, so we can be as loud as we want. This won't be just sex, baby. It's practically an art form. I'm going to bring you so deliciously, so completely you won't know where you end and I begin. This will be the most intimate we can possibly be, and you will have to trust me, honey, because you will be reduced to a helpless pool of climaxes beneath me when it's over."
Moira nearly fell as she leaned against the door, body vividly reacting. She felt hot, tight, wet. "Oh John," she murmured. She turned to him. Kissed him.
He pulled her into him. Ran his mouth down her throat. "Is that a yes, Moira?"
She stared at him. "I...I don't know if you are just teasing me or not."
"I'm offering you a genuine experience," he corrected. Smiled. "Baby, maybe you're not ready. It's nothing we haven't done, just in a different way. A different position. Still..." he paused, caressing her rosy cheek, "I don't want to shock you into celibacy."
She frowned. "Hilarious, John! You are so full of–"
"Is that a no? Moira, I need an answer now."
She kissed him. "Sweetie, what does a, a triple entail, exactly?"
"I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy, actually, so I'd rather show you," he teased. "So?"
She smiled. "All right, sweetie. Just promise that it won't kill me."
He laughed. "Promise, baby. Let's go."
"Now? I.." But he opened the door, pulled her down the stairs. "John? Where...we don't need any, um, props, do we?"
He laughed. "No. Trust me." He led her to a transporter. Then another. Crisscrossing the city from one tower to another. Down a hallway. Then another flight of stairs.
"John, where are we going?" she asked, as her foot began to ache.
"Privacy, baby. Here." He led her into a room. "Ta da!"
She stared round. "Wow." She crossed the circular room, stepping over a pile of blankets. Stared out the window. "How high are we?" She stared down, down at the ocean waves. At the rest of the city spread out like a flower, extending across the roiling blue waters.
He moved next to her. "Really, really high. Observation tower on the northeast side of the city. Pier three. Now our little love nest, sweetheart, for our most exuberant sex."
She turned to him, but looked up to see lights dancing in the glass above them. "The windows! John, look!"
He smiled. "I know." He glanced up at the colors reflected in the sunlight as the rays hit the glass. Spilling rainbows upon them. Beams of filtered color, shades and hues of blue, of red, of green, of purple. He drew her to the blankets invitingly spilled on the floor. He kissed her. "Moira, give yourself to me. Completely." He kept kissing her, longer, longer kisses. Teasing and tantalizing. His hands caressed her, running round to her rear to squeeze, squeeze.
She squirmed. "John! Oh John, oh John," she whispered, hands running up his chest. Fingers popping open the shirt, button by button. To stroke his chest, to tangle in his chest hair. To slide down to his pants to undo his belt. "So...how do we...um..." She hesitated.
He smiled. "I'll lead. You follow, baby." He kissed her again, abruptly slid his hands under her shirt. Removed it, tugging it over her head as she lifted her arms. He smiled. "Ah...I was hoping it would be pink...the softest pink..." He eyed her bra. "And the panties?"
"Match, yes, sweetie." She kissed him, slid his shirt off him as he helped her. She unzipped his pants to feel his arousal pressing, pressing. "Oh John...sweetie, you are nearly ready for deployment now." She gasped as his hand slid between her legs, rubbing. Probing.
"So are you, baby, but not quite yet." He unzipped her pants, yanked them down. He smirked. "Pink panties...sweet." She stepped out of the pants, sat on the blankets. Removed her shoes.
"Socks too, baby," he reminded.
"No. My feet get cold," she remarked, watching him remove his pants. Eyed his plain blue boxers. He sat near her, pulling off his boots, his socks. She ran her hand up his bare back. "John...um, is this going to be, um..."
"Fantastic, baby. Trust me." He turned to her, smiled. Scooted close and kissed her. Fingers sliding deftly to pull down the straps of her bra. To unhook it. To remove it. Gently he pushed her onto her back. Followed. Kept kissing her down her throat, down to her breasts to swirl, to nibble until she arched, arched. His fingers played incessantly between her legs. Sliding on the panties still blocking him. She whimpered. "Nice and wet, baby. Now just relax and enjoy the delicious ride."
"John? You–"
He smiled at her. "We start here. Then we'll be moving. On top. Above. Then beneath me. All right?" he instructed.
"Sounds...complicated," she remarked, gasped as he yanked down her panties, ripped them off her leg. "John!"
He kissed her, yanking down his shorts, ripping them off impatiently. "I want you loud, baby. This is our private, perfect place. No interruptions." For emphasis he removed his earpiece, tossed it aside.
Before she could reply he kissed her. A searing, sensual kiss. Tongue probing, thrusting to make her murmur, squirm as his hands played along her breasts. Then down, down to push apart her thighs. He bent her knees, moved lower. Kissed along her inner thigh. Catching himself as her scent was intoxicating, luring him as surely as a bee to the nectar of a flower. "John! Oh John, you, you're going down on me?" she asked breathlessly.
"At first," he muttered. Ran his mouth along her skin, skimming the top of her mound. His unshaven jaw and cheek scraping her tender skin. Arousing her as she squirmed, squirmed. She grabbed, fingers tangled in his hair as he mouthed her teasingly, hands sliding along her thighs.
Moira squirmed, tensing, gasping. She arched, moaned repeatedly as he brought her closer, closer, tongue and lips a sensual whirl as he delved with delicate precision. He suddenly stopped and he breathed deeply. Curbing his own desire, his own passion as his erection throbbed, throbbed. Her fingers slid free as she fell back, unaware she had been lifting, lifting. He raised his head, gaze passionate, dark. A purely male gleam in his eyes. She trembled in desire, in need. "John?" Her voice a whisper, a tremor of sexual excitement.
He smiled. "Here comes the trust part, baby." He rolled onto his back. "You need to crawl over me."
"What?" She rolled, moved onto him. He pulled the ponytail holder from her hair, set it loose and wild around them. "Up. Don't touch me. Just move up, up. I'll guide you."
"Huh?" She kissed him. Kissing him as her need spiraled. Unfulfilled. "John?"
"Up. Now." Her body pressing to his was only making it more difficult for him to restrain himself. Especially feeling her so ready, so eager.
Moira moved to her hands and knees as he caressed her sides. She moved up over him. He stopped her, kissing down her throat. Then her breasts. Moved her further. She moaned as his mouth slid down her waist. Wet, sloppy kisses pausing at her scar. He moved her further, squeezing her rear to push, push. She gasped, suddenly realizing what he was intending. "John! John, no! No."
"Give yourself to me, Moira, please," he wooed. "I'll give you a triple climax, baby, I promise," he growled, groaning as his erection was painful, hungry.
She gulped, flushed. Feeling his hot breath on her skin, so close and intimate. She moved a little and sighed in absolute surrender as his hands slid, guiding her to his waiting, willing mouth. Moira melted, squirmed, arched and cried out all at once as he teased. Tongued. Sucked. At the same time his fingers slid down her rear, under her, into her. Caressing, stroking the tender, tender opening, the slick folds.
Moira's fingers clenched, clenched. Body tightening, trembling. "John! Oh John! John, please, please oh God, oh God!" she murmured, pleaded. Nearly wept as the pleasure escalated wildy. Almost painfully throbbing, pulsing. She cried out his name in a rising, loud litany as the orgasm rushed, slammed into her. Over her. Through her.
Abruptly he caught her, flipped her onto her back and thrust, thrust hard and fast into her. Groaning loudly in sheer relief. Moira nearly screamed, arching, sobbing, losing her breath as the third orgasm slammed into her. As he rocked her wildy. Thrusting deep and hard, faster and faster. Grunting with every motion. Straining as his body demanded release, relief.
"Oh John! John, John, John!" she cried in ecstasy, writhing wildly beneath him. The blankets bunching up under her, lifting her. As if in offering to him. She whimpered, wrapping her legs around him. Clawing at his bare back. Breathless.
John groaned loudly, swearing. Finding her so tight, so wet. She was clenching on him, swallowing him as he thrust, thrust. Rock hard still. Shoving his full length into her. "Moira! Moira, that's it! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" he exulted, arching, straining with a violent shudder. A frenetic rocking of their locked bodies.
Moira cried out again as he kept moving, kept the momentum, the exuberant sex almost making her scream. She rocked, squirmed. Clung to him. She tried to catch her breath as he pumped, pumped. She relaxed slightly as the climax faded. Spiraled. Echoed fervently. But he was still moving, in and out. Suddenly his mouth captured hers, possessed hers. His hands pinning her to the floor as a sudden eruption of hard, quick thrusts propelled him to release.
John growled, grunted. Slowed and fell upon her as the last shudder hit him. The last spasm spewing out of him. He breathed deeply, falling upon her. Sweat drenched his body, drenched hers. His harsh breath hit her skin, her breasts, her neck as he shifted. Kissed her. Slipped out and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling. Saw the colored lights shifting. Falling down upon them. "Fuck," he whispered, as if amazed at himself. Voice raspy. "Moira. My Moira..." He licked his lips. "I didn't kill you, did I?" he teased. Turned his head to view her.
"No. John...almost. But no." Her voice was soft, breathless. Quivering with a silent sob. She stared at the lights above them, upon them.
John turned onto his side to stare at her naked body. It was doused in the myriad colors. Drenched in sweat. Trickles on her breasts, between them. Down her sides. Her hips. Her thighs and the center between them glistening, sparkling with their fluids. He softly moaned, gaze fixated. Felt a raw, sexual hunger but forced himself to look at her face. "Moira." He paused, voice a sensual growl. Swallowed. "Moira. I didn't–"
"Hurt me? No, John. Not at all." He braced himself, expecting anger, blame. Instead she rolled onto her side. Was suddenly on top of him, pushing him onto his back. "Oh John! John, you..my God...you..." she purred in awe, astonishment. Brown eyes wide. Face flushed. She kissed him. Showered kisses all over him.
He stroked her back, her hair. Returning her kisses. Relieved at her passion. "Baby, that was the John Sheppard triple special. Only for you, my Moira."
She smiled, caressing his hair, his jaw. "John, sweetie, that was...you...have you ever done that with your lots some–"
"Women? No." He kissed her. "Complete possession, Moira. Complete trust. Intimacy."
"Yes, John." She kissed him, snuggled on top of him. "We need a shower up here! We smell of sex and sweat and–"
"Beautiful, baby." He lazily stroked her. "Just a sec here. Just enjoy the afterglow."