Selection Factor5

Moira strode into their room. "John! John, what the hell did you do now? I was right in the middle of something important and I..." She froze. Gasped. Soft music was playing. Candles flickered on the table. It was clear of her books and folders which were haphazardly stacked on the floor. Instead dozens and dozens of roses adorned the table. Reds. Pinks. Whites. Two covered plates emitted delicious aromas. A bottle of beer and a half-filled wine glass stood sentinel. She smiled. Then frowned. Suspicious. "John? Do you have a date? I'll get out of your way," she teased. Guessing his motives.

"Hilarious, Moira." He stepped out of the bathroom. Gave her his best slow smile. The one that made women melt. Practically fall at his feet. His gaze caressing her. "I thought we could have a nice dinner here. Privately."

Moira stared. A black woven shirt was generously unbuttoned, giving her an enticing view of his chest hair. It was tucked into a pair of black slacks that were molded to his form, emphasizing his lean, long build. Also his attributes as he moved. Tousled hair deliciously messy. Shadows of stubble enhancing his handsome face, the strong lines. She felt a rush of desire, love, lust. Looked at the floor to drown the emotions. To disable them. "What is this?" She met his gaze. "Another page out of John Sheppard's book of seduction?"

He smiled. Pulled out a chair. Gestured to it. "Page three. Please join me, Moira."

"Um..." She glanced down at her plain clothing. "I'm not really dressed for such a fancy, extravagant–"

"You are beautiful. Sit."

She frowned. "Are you sure you're not expecting some other woman to–"

"No. Sit. I'm starving! Ravenous, actually." The glint in his brilliant green eyes suggested he wasn't just talking about food.

She swallowed. Moved to the chair. Sat. "Um...John?"

He sat next to her. Uncovered the plates with a flourish. "Steak. Potatoes. Rolls. I was told half a glass of wine won't do any harm. You need to relax, Moy. Stop working so damn much. I'm here now. We are celebrating."

"Celebrating?" she asked, watching him.

"Yes. Celebrating the scan of John junior." He lifted the beer bottle.

She smirked. "Oh no. You're not going to try to make a toast, are you?"

"No." He drank.

She smiled. Sipped some wine. "Wow...to go to all of this trouble you must really want to bang me bad."

John did a spit take. She laughed as beer flew across the table, spraying the flowers. He coughed, set the bottle down. Wiped his mouth. "Shit! Moira Sheppard!" he scolded.

"It's true, isn't it?" she asked sweetly. "Damn, John, if I wasn't so...um...awkward I'd be all over you right now." Her gaze drifted over him. The black sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms. The pants smoothly gliding over his lap. Snug on his thighs, his crotch.

"Hush! Eat your dinner. I want to talk to you, Moira. Get your mind out of the bedroom," he scolded sternly. But a smirk stole across his lips.

She smiled. "But we are in the bedroom, sweetie."

"Moira, shut up and eat!" She laughed. He smiled. They ate companionably. Enjoying the food. John sat back, sipping his beer. Pushed his empty plate aside. Eyes on her as she finished her dinner. Assessing. Anticipating. Candlelight glimmered on her. "Moira...I've been thinking..."

"Oh oh, see! You think we are having too much sex? I did try to–"

"No. Not that. The last month of your pregnancy. We are going to spend it on Earth."

"On Earth?" she repeated, sitting back with a contented sigh.

"Yes. I want you to have the best. The very best. The best doctors. The best hospital. Nothing against Carson but he's not a specialist in this. You are going to have the most modern care I can provide. For you and John junior. Not that I think anything is going to go wrong. I don't want to scare you, sweetheart. I just want the absolute best for you."

"Oh. Okay, John. I...I think I would prefer it that way," she agreed.

"Good. I was thinking that last month we can go shopping and get all the baby things we will need here."

"You don't want your son born here? In Pegasus?" she asked, curious.

"No. I know it might sound snobbish but I want my son born on my home planet. In America like we were. And you safely in the best hospital under the best care."

"Okay, John. Um...can you take that much time off? I mean, I mean it might be another month or even two before we can, can return here. With, with the baby."

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he soothed. "I'm going to be there for you and for John junior. Oh, and another thing," he added, pointing at her as she sipped her wine, "what was all that talk about my autonomy? What's mine is yours, sweetheart. All of it. Whether you want it or not."

She smiled. "I know that, John. I just meant...you know. The room. Your room. As opposed to this. Our room."

"Okay...so you're saying since I sleep with you here I should move in?" he asked, puzzled.

"No. I mean, you are already moved in. I just meant you like to have your own space. So do I. You know."

"So now you want me to move out?"

"No! I mean that I didn't move the new bed into your room because it is yours. This room is ours."

"It was yours."

"Yes, but it is ours when I moved in here. Why are you making this complicated?"

"Me? It's all ours, Moy." He gestured expansively. "All of it. Yours. Mine. All ours. Do you want me to move all of my stuff into here?"

"No! I'm just saying–"

"'Cause I will if that's what you want, baby. I will clutter this room with all of my stuff and shove my undies in with yours. Hey, that's not such a bad idea, actually. Come to think of it."

"John!" she scolded, smirking. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then tell me what you meant, baby, because I am confused now. Do you want me or not?"

"Of course I want you! I just meant your stuff, your privacy, your–"

"Privacy? I've got nothing to hide from you, baby. Everything is yours." He stood. Held out his hand. "Shall we?"

"Huh? We're still arguing," she complained.

"Shall we?" he repeated. "I'm sure you can multi-task, baby."

She laughed. Slipped her hand into his. Stood. "I don't want to keep you from your date, colonel."

"Cute." He drew her close, arms encircling her. Swayed slowly to the music. "A nice slow dance, Moira."

"John..." she said, enchanted. She smiled. Hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders.

He drew her closer, kissing her. Felt her relaxing in his arms. He kissed down her throat. Up to her ear. "I love you, Moira," he intoned low. Kissed her again. Slow, sweet kisses, his mouth lingering on hers. Hands gently caressing her back against the sweater. Kiss after kiss, slowly becoming more passionate, more sensual. He heard her murmur, sigh, kiss him in growing response. Her lips opening to his. He had just slid his tongue into her mouth as his hands slid down to grasp her rear when a man's voice intruded over the PA.

"Colonel Sheppard, please respond. Colonel Sheppard, do you copy?"

Moira broke the kiss, startled. Disappointed. "You–"

"No. Don't move." He freed her, stepped away to the comm unit. "This is Sheppard. I gave direct orders not to be disturbed," he reminded gruffly. Anger palpable. "What part of do not disturb didn't you understand?"

"Uh, sorry, sir, I...I.... that is, they are requesting your presence in the conference room," the voice stammered.

"Who?" he snapped. Glanced back. Moira was moving to the table. She extinguished the candles one by one.

"Doctor Weir, sir, she–"

"Sheppard out." He turned. "Moy, I'm not leaving. Don't move, baby."

"You have to go, sweetie. It's all right. I should be working in the–"

"No. Don't you move, baby. Back in a sec." He strode into his room, snatched his earpiece. Irritated. "Elizabeth, copy?"

"John, where are you?" Elizabeth's voice came over the earpiece, sounding annoyed. "We are discussing next month's rotation and I need your input to–"

"No." He glanced at the open threshold between the rooms. Lowered his voice. "Look, Elizabeth, I can't. Not now. Moira and I are having a quiet dinner together. We just saw our first scan of John junior."

"Oh. Congratulations, John, but once you are through there I need you here to–"

"No. I'll go over that stuff tomorrow. All right? This is a big thing for us. I need to be with Moira now. We have a lot of things to discuss. Important things. Sheppard out." He cursed. Put the earpiece on his dresser, knowing he would more than likely get an earful in the morning. Didn't care. He sighed. Knew he'd have to start all over again with Moira. Just when he had almost had here where he wanted her. He turned suddenly. Noted the silence. She had turned off the music. He returned to their room. Saw her putting the plates on a tray, intending to take them back to the cafeteria. "Moira, no!" He strode to her, taking the tray and setting it on the table. "I'm not leaving!"

"It's all right, John. Go. It was a lovely dinner. Really! I'll see you later tonight." She looked sad, so sad. Resigned. But somewhat relieved.

"No. I'm not leaving. We haven't finished our dance." He led her away from the table. Pulled her gently into his arms and began to sway with her. "See?"

She smiled. "There's no music, John. You–"

"You're all the music I need, baby." He kissed her. Kiss after kiss. He began to guide her towards the bed. Moira knew what he was doing but didn't care. Enchanted by the sweet kisses, the gentle touches. His love washing over her. Shielding her. She bumped into the bed, sat. He sat very close, his thigh pressing hers.

"Oh John...you...I..." she sighed longingly. She ran her fingers in his hair, kissing him. Circling his ear. Her mouth nibbling down his throat. Slowly she unbuttoned his shirt. Opening it to run her fingers lightly along his chest, his waist. Her mouth followed. She pushed him onto his back. Slid up to kiss his mouth repeatedly. To whimper, nibble his lower lip. She kissed down to his waist. Paused. Caressed his thigh, his crotch. "Oh." Her fingers had encountered his very erect cock.

He smiled at her soft surprise. "Oh indeed, baby."

"John, do you want, um, do you want me to go down on you?" Even as she asked she was undoing his belt, his pants. Tugging the zipper down. She smiled at his black silk boxers.

"No."

She met his gaze, surprised. "No?"

He licked his lips. Gaze serious. Sensual. "No. I want you."