Parasitism8
Moira moved. Regretted it as pain flared in her foot. She eased herself off John, but his arm drew her back to him. She shifted. "John? John?"
He woke instantly, stared at her. "Moira? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He freed her so she could sit. She swung her legs to the floor. "It's morning."
"So I see," he said, squinting at the sunlight shining in the room. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry. Tired. Sore. Dirty."
"Hmm."
She looked back at him. "No, I mean I need a shower! But I can't get my foot wet."
"Do you want me to help you with that?"
"No. I..." She moved to stand but he was abruptly there, arm sliding around her waist.
"Lean. Here." He helped her walk to the bathroom. "Are you sure you don't need my help? Seriously, Moira," he admonished, seeing her smirk.
She turned to him. "I'll let you know. Now scoot, flyboy."
He smiled. "Fine. I just don't want you slipping and falling on that pert little ass." He moved back to the bed. Reclined, stretching. Waiting. He heard the water running. Closed his eyes, trying not to imagine her in the shower. Trying to imagine her in the shower.
Moira struggled. Holding an awkward stance to shower, to shave her legs, to wash her hair. Trying not to fall as the hot water pounded her, made her feel better. She had almost finished when the loofah flew from her hands. Landed at the other end of the stall. "Shit!" She angled, tried to bend towards it and nearly fell. She caught herself. "Shit!" She sighed. Smirked. Grinned. Thinking of John. Thinking of the enjoyable consequences. "John! John!" she called.
John jumped off the bed, strode to the bathroom. Entered. Smiled. "Moira?" Her bandaged foot was sticking out of the shower as she peered around the curtain at him.
She smiled. "Um...I dropped my loofah."
"Oh. Oh? Is that our new code phrase?" he teased with a dazzling smile.
"Depends, John. Well? Strip, flyboy, and come get my loofah!"
He laughed, began to undress. "On my way, doctor. I'd like nothing better than to get hold of your loofah."
She laughed. "I bet!" She ducked back into the shower.
Once naked he pulled the curtain to take a long look at her. Dripping wet and naked she glared at him. "Ah, baby...ah baby..."
"Shut up and get my loofah, sweetie!"
He laughed. "As ordered." He stepped in, stepped past her and leaned over to retrieve it.
She smiled. "Ah, sweetie! Ah sweetie...fine, fine ass there."
He straightened. "Here."
"No! Don't move yet," she ordered. Took the loofah as he handed it over his shoulder to her. She braced herself against him. "Oh colonel, that is just what I needed. Something long, and lean, and hard to support me."
"You got that, baby, don't you worry," he rejoined. He tensed, feeling her wet skin on him, her body pressed to his. Could only imagine what she was doing. Tried not to react but she started to moan, to teasingly call his name. "Hilarious, Moira." The water felt good, soothing. "Baby, where exactly are you using that loofah?"
"Oh John, oh John," she breathed into his ear. She ran it up his back. "Wouldn't you like to know, sweetie? It's quite rough...isn't it?"
"Yes, damn. Damn, Moira, are you serious?"
She kissed his shoulder. Slipped. "Whoa!"
He whirled, caught her. Pulled her gently to him. Kissed her as the water pounded him. "Done?"
"Wow, John..." She ran her hands on his wet skin. Chest hair tangled, dripping. Water sluiced along his bare shoulders. Ran down his jaw. "I want to lick you all over, sweetie...God you are hot like this." Her gaze devoured him. Hands running along his slick skin. "Help me out."
"What? Oh." He smiled, eyes roaming. He licked his lips, riveted by the sight, the feel of her naked, wet body. His erection stiffened. "Oh oh." He stepped out of the water, shutting it off. He helped her. Swung her up into his arms, making her laugh.
"John!" She squirmed but clung to him. Kissing him, licking the water as he carried her to the bed. "John, wait! We're both soaking wet!"
"The wetter the better, baby. Especially for licking." He gently set her on the bed, near the edge. Moved carefully onto her. Watching as her she slid her foot to hang over the edge of the bed. "Moira? How's that?"
She pulled him closer, kissing him for an answer. Running her hands all over him. Opening her legs invitingly. Feeling his hardness pressing. A rush of desire made her hot, tight. "Oh John, oh John, I'm even wetter now...John..."
"Are you sure?" he asked, kissing her. Running his mouth down her throat, down to her breasts. Body shifting carefully along hers. She arched, clutched. Moaned. Winced.
"Ow."
"Ow?" He lifted.
"No." She pulled him back onto her. "I can't move my foot is all. Distract me, John. Oh John." She kissed him eagerly, mouth tugging at his. Demanding. "Please, please," she whispered, squirming, hungry for him. Needing. Wanting. She ran her mouth along his stubbled jaw, circled his ear. Licked down his throat. Fingers gliding in his wet hair, on his wet back.
He groaned, feeling her so wet, so ready, his own need escalating. Her kisses passionate, luring him. Demanding him. He moved carefully, entered her with a long, low sigh of pleasure. Enjoyment as she tightened on him, squirming. He thrust slowly, mouth wandering to lick the water off her skin. Hands caressing.
Moira arched, sighed loudly. Happily. "Oh John! Oh John...faster! Harder!"
"Are you sure, Moira?" he asked huskily. Straining but trying not to rush. Not to take her all at once, although he dearly, dearly wanted to plunge into sexual abandon. Needed to drown them both in pleasurable waves.
"Yes, oh yes, John! Bring me, bring me hard!" she gushed, bending one knee as her injured foot dangled safely off the bed. She clutched, clung. "Oh John!"
John kissed her, quickening the pace, all too glad to comply. Thrusting harder, faster, grunting as he slid deliciously along her with intimate precision. "Fuck, oh fuck! Moira, oh fuck I wanted this so bad, so bad," he growled.
"John! Oh John, John, John!" she enthused, moving with him as the bed rocked, rocked. "So close, John, so fucking close! Please, please, oh God...so close!"
He complied, rhythm gaining momentum, duration. "Fuck! Fuck!" he snarled, tried to lower his voice as he was coming hard. Fast. Suddenly slowed with an effort. "Moira? Aren't you–"
"Not yet, John, you're so close! So fucking close!" she urged, squirming as if to give him another angle. The climax hovered just out of reach, pleasure suspended, caught between the rush and the rhythm.
"Damn it! You have to come, baby, you always come! Always! My baby always comes just before I do," he grumbled. "Let's see..."
She smiled at his honest concentration, as if he were trying to solve a problem. He shifted, began moving again, thrusting at a different momentum. Harder. Deeper. "Oh John!" she cried, as he brought her suddenly. A bright crash of climax that made her cry out loudly, made her writhe under her, clutch at him. "Oh John–"
"John, John," he said it with her, as she flooded, a wave of orgasmic pleasure leaving her breathless, melted. The bed rocked wildly. Headboard slamming the wall. "That's it, baby! That's...oh fuck! Moira! Fuck–"
"Fuck, fuck," she said with him as he came in a violent shudder. A strained thrust and release at last that left him sated. He exhaled in pleasure, rested a moment on her. Smiled.
"Hilarious, Moira."
"Hilarious, John," she rejoined. Kissed him. Over and over as he moved to catch her mouth with his. "Ah, John, that was so good! So very good...you can keep me on my back any time."
"I will," he stated low, but smiled. "Believe me, Moira, I will." He eased out of her, off her. Stroked her rosy, blissful face. Kissed her. "Guess we'll have to shower again."
"No. You know what will happen then."
"Exactly." He grinned.
She laughed. "John!"
"What?" he asked innocently. Rolled onto his back. "I don't know if that was medically appropriate but damn that felt good. Very good."
She sat, frowned. "I'll have to strip the entire bed now. Damn it, John!"
He laughed. "Damn it, Moira," he rejoined happily. "Do you need my help, baby?"
"No." She stood, limped awkwardly to the dresser. "Well? I know you want to say something," she noted as she pulled out underwear.
He smiled, watching her. "I was studying your foot, actually, baby, but since you insist..." he paused, eyes roving as she awkwardly stepped into a pair of panties, pulled them up, wiggling.
"Ah baby, prettiest pert little ass in both galaxies, I swear!"
She laughed, put on a bra. Pulled on a blue t-shirt. "Whoa!" She nearly fell but he was there, catching her. Drew her back to sit on the bed. "Thank you."
"Any time, baby." He pulled on his own clothes. Watched her comb her hair. He touched her back, sitting close. Hearing her moan he scooted closer. "Are you all right, honey?"
"Foot's sore, that's all." She kissed him, playfully ran her comb through his hair. Grinned. "You look so disheveled, colonel. Like you just spent the night in a storm."
He smiled. "I did. In a Moira storm. All right. First to Carson. Then to breakfast. And I need to change into clean clothes." He stood, wheeled the chair to her. "In."
She laughed. "Uh, John...pants first?"
"I'm wearing pants, Moira, can't you...oh! You? Well, if you insist." He laughed at her scowl. Handed her the khakis flung over a chair.
She shakily stood, pulled them on and sat in the chair. Sighed. "How am I going to get all of this cleaned up?"
"I'll take care of it, don't you worry." He kissed her. Wheeled her out of her room.
"Wait! You need to change your clothes first, sweetie. People will talk," she warned, half serious, half in jest.
"Let them. I don't care." At her scowl he sighed. "Fine. After I leave you with Carson. Hell, Moira, it's not like it's a secret we're sleeping together. Repeatedly."
"I know, but..."
"But? Spill it, baby. Now." He waited. "Moira?"
"Nothing, John." She was silent as he wheeled her into the infirmary. Turned as Carson approached, eying them both. Their damp hair. Blissful expressions.
"She needs something for the pain," John stated. "But nothing too strong."
"Weren't you going to change?" she asked, turning to view him.
"Me? Change?" He spread out his hands. "Why change this perfection?"
Moira laughed. "Will you go? That is if your ego will fit through the door!"
"My ego fits everywhere, Moira...even your loofah." He laughed at her scowl, her smile. "Okay, okay, I'm going."
She laughed as he left. Sighed. "He's right."
"About your loofah?"
"What? No, I mean yes, I mean...no!" She colored. "About my foot. It is sore."
"Then keep off it, you silly woman," Carson scolded. "Let's take a look, shall we? I'll give you some pain meds to manage it."
Moira watched as he deftly removed the bandages. Inspected the wounds, the stitches. Turned it this way and that. Had her flex her toes. He wrapped it in a fresh bandage. "Well?"
"So far so good."
"No, I mean good, but I meant the thing. Has there been any change?"
Carson met her gaze. "It's larger." He shrugged at her surprise. "Honestly, Moira, I've never seen anything like it! I've only been able to get a few tissue samples. The cocoon is very tough to penetrate. And it's always moving. Whatever is inside it is growing exponentially."
Moira made to stand. "I need to see it, Carson!"
"I don't know, love. It's bound to upset you."
"I don't care." She winced, sat in the chair again. "I need to see it. Have you learned anything from the samples?"
"So far, no." Carson sat across from her. "From our initial tests it appears to be more insect than humanoid. But it does have humanoid appendages."
Moira shuddered. "Appendages? So...a, a sub-Wraith? Or a genetic..."
"A mutation absorbing perhaps some of your own human DNA...cellular enzymes."
"Enzymes. Like John's retro virus? Through a Wraith."
"It's possible but I don't see how."
"Enzyme expansion on a biochemical–"
"But only through blood...or saliva...possibly..."
" Not again," John complained, joining them. He looked from one to the other. "Translation, please, for the non-psychic, non-scientific guy?"
"We're postulating theories, that's all. About the differing tissue samples and exotic DNA strands," Carson explained.
John looked at Moira. She was staring at him. His hair was combed. His face clean-shaven. He had on a clean black t-shirt and blue pants. "Again, translation?"
She smiled. "You're too distracting...and I don't want to fill your pretty head with all that scientific–"
"Blah blah blah?" he finished for her, scowled. "What else is new? I'm surprised you can even concentrate on science, Moira, after what I did with your loofah." She snorted, trying not to laugh, instead preparing to scold him when he looked at Carson. "So you're saying this thing contains trace elements of several DNA strands, both of the various Wraith strands and the Iratus bugs?"
"In a word, yes, colonel. Impressive, John."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I can walk and chew gum at the same time too. Geez!" he exclaimed, causing laughter. "Your highness, where to now?" He grabbed the back of the chair.
"Actually, John...Carson and I were going to–"
"The Wraith lab, of course. You mean that thing is still alive?" John asked, frowning.
"Yes." Carson eyed her . "Are you sure, Moira?"
"Yes. But John doesn't–"
"Like I'd let you go without me? Let's roll."
"I can walk–" she began to protest, but he was moving the chair.
"Let's roll." He pushed the chair. "Keep that pert little ass still," he advised.
"John!" she scolded as Carson joined them. "I can walk. What are you going to do? Wheel me around all day?"
"Not all day. You'll need to be on your back some time today. Won't she, Carson?"
"I'm not going near that one," Carson blithely remarked. They laughed. "We could have used a proper wheelchair."
"No! I'm not an invalid!" Moira protested. "Just–"
"Incapacitated for a few days," John finished for her. "Keep still and enjoy the ride."
"Funny. That's what you said last night," she teased.
"Yeah...and boy did you ever enjoy the–"
"John! Shush!"