Selection Factor8
John was standing in the hallway, lust momentarily halted by his wife's words. Her nonchalant tone. Pleased at her trust in him, her love. But puzzled over her seeming acceptance. Then her clarification which only bewildered him. He adjusted the folders in his hands as she stepped out of the Wraith lab to find him.
"John?" Moira stood, waiting. "What is it?"
"Sex?"
"Um...not out here. Do you still need to deploy, sweetie?" She smiled, moved to him. Took the folders, brushing her fingers along his still erect cock. "Hmm...feels like you do, colonel."
"Hilarious, Moira. Move that pert little ass now!"
She laughed, entered the lab again. Set the files on the table. "I just need your codes here to ow!"
John had followed on her heels. Had swatted her rear. Pressed himself against her, practically shoving her into the table. "Feel that, baby. All for you. You. So what the fuck was that about? The thing is sex? What?"
She squirmed, his hardness poking her, prodding. "John!" She managed to turn to face him, but that only made it worse as he stepped closer, closer. Erection jutting, pushing at her crotch. "Geez, colonel! Stand down!"
He grinned. "Can't, baby. Full fucking throttle, Moira. Every inch of you." He opened the sweater but she swatted his hands off her.
"John, you–"
He kissed her. A deep, lurid kiss. Tongue swirling on hers as he grabbed her rear and all but thrust her onto him. Clothes barely a barrier now as he shoved, shoved into her, along her. Grunting in her mouth. He freed her, stepped back to see her flustered arousal. Smiled. "Here." He grabbed her hand, pulled her to the inner lab. Pressed his palm to the screen. It went from red to green. Chimed. He input his code, pulled her into the lab and shut the door. "Now," he began, turning to her, "you have two options, baby. Only two."
She smiled, sighed, resigning herself. Anticipating. She put her hands on her hips. "Really, colonel? And what would those options be, exactly?"
He licked his lips. Smiled wickedly. Brilliant green eyes sparkling with love, mischief. Lust. "One." He held up his forefinger. "You take off your clothes. Get on your knees and suck me off until either this goes down or you do." At her frown he grinned. "Two." He held up his second finger next to the first. "You take off your clothes. Sprawl on that table like a buffet and I will take you so fucking hard we will dislodge those monitors. So?"
"Hilarious, John. I am not getting naked here, colonel! Have you forgotten?" She pointed up to the corner.
He looked over his shoulder. Saw the security camera. The little red light blinking. Recording. "Shit," he mourned. Turned back to her and smiled, raised a brow. "Hey, baby, we could make the hottest little piece of film to–"
"Hell no, sweetie!" He laughed at her outraged tone. Which turned to a groan as she took his fingers into her mouth and sucked. Freed them slowly. "Hmm, colonel...whatever are you going to do? You have two options. Only two." She ran her hand along his crotch. Grasping his cock and stroking. "One. You deploy this long, stiff armament in your pants. Two. I remained clothed. Move to my knees and suck this long, hard, burgeoning ordnance until you scream my name or I bite it off. So?"
He stared at her. "Fuck. You are trying to kill me, baby, I swear!" He pulled her into a lengthy kiss, trapping her hand between them, fingers still entwined around his cock. She murmured, squeezing until he moaned, shifted. Shuddered slightly and drew back with a scowl. "Fuck!"
She smiled, freed him. Stepped back. "Camera, John. First things first."
"Huh? Oh..right. Does that camera have a three sixty view?"
"Yes, you insisted. John, I have work to do. We can deploy your enormous P90 later, can't we?"
"No. I'm not kidding around here, baby." He looked around. Grabbed a lab coat hanging on the wall. Spun round and tossed it. It flew up, over the camera, covering the lens. "That's mine. Now yours, baby." He pointed to the window in the door.
"Nice throw," she commented. Hesitated. Unbuttoned the sweater. Walked past him and removed it. Hung it up over the window, it's blue bulky folds blocking the view. She heard John's moan of appreciation. Knew where his gaze was fixated. Frowned. She turned to him. "John, really, do you want to have sex right here right now? I mean..." Her words faltered as his gaze fastened on her breasts. The swells pushing upwards as the once-modest V-neck violet shirt was now very sexy, very revealing.
"Fuck." His gaze wandered to the baby bump. He smiled. Down to her crotch. The dark brown pants hugging her hips. Had been hugging her rear. He met her gaze. "Moira...my God...you..no wonder I have a constant hard-on."
"John! Shut up!" She briskly moved to him. Undid his belt, his pants. Unzipped. Opened the fabric of his pants and shorts. He sprang out to meet her, eager, hungry. She moved to her knees and caressed him. Nails scratching up and down his skin as she ran hot kisses along his hip.
John groaned. His amusement at her brisk, efficient manner giving way to pure pleasure. Need. Her fingers torture to him. Her mouth torment. He jerked in her hands. Grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. "No," he said gruffly.
"John? I'll suck you off, sweetie, don't you worry, then I need your codes to–"
He kissed her. Grabbed her rear to squeeze, to make her squeal. He lifted her onto a table. Fingers flying to undo her pants. Yanking them down, off as she squirmed, grabbing onto him. He yanked down her panties, pushing her onto her back to rip them off her. The violet fabric moist in his fingers, pliable. She whimpered, trying to move but he shoved her thighs apart and entered with an abrupt thrust.
Moira gasped, cried out as he plied her. Began to rock her eagerly, quickly. The table shaking under them. His weight all but off her as he stood, angled to penetrate her as she sprawled on the table. Papers and files flew. The computer monitor was trembling as the passion grew, grew. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she cried, trying to lower her voice as the pleasure was building, building hotly.
John was grunting, groaning. Finding sweet relief but needing more and more. He kissed her, leaning close. Thrusting all the while as he yanked up her shirt, the violet bra and kissed her breasts. Sucking, nibbling, taking every inch of her as she tightened on him, giving him rushes of pleasure, each more intense than the last. "Fuck, oh fuck, baby! Fucking sweet, so fucking lush I can't get enough," he growled, voice low and primal.
Moira felt a shiver at the sound. The lower register of his voice, the husky possessiveness. The sounds he was making as he took her repeatedly. She squirmed, holding onto him as he was moving her inexorably up the table inch by inch, thrust by thrust. The monitor was shaking now, beginning to beep as if in alarm. The table squeaking with each motion, legs scratching the floor. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she cried, arching, voice rising to the heights of passion as she came sharply. The climax making her flood, melt under him.
"Ssh, ssh, baby oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he exclaimed, not heeding his own warning as he came at last, the excruciating tightness dissolving into rolling pleasure. But he was still moving, slowing from his frenzied momentum. Still in her, still taking her. Savoring the feel, the taste, the sex. He kissed her breasts, sloppily moved to her mouth.
Moira blinked back tears as the pleasure vibrated. As he still was so big, filling every inch of her. Slowing now, sliding over every sensitive spot to make her squirm, whimper. Clutch as his mouth wandered to her throat. He exhaled, straining, thrusting. Then collapsing, half on her as he hid his face in her messy hair. She stroked his arm, his back. Kissed his cheek, his ear to circle, to bite gently. He moaned in response, thrust weakly. All but spent now. Lust expended.
"John. My God, John...colonel...you, um, you weren't kidding."
"Never about sex, baby. Are you okay?" he asked, voice raw.
"Yes, sweetie. And yes, so is John junior," she assured before he could ask. "Wow, John...you, um, you were that turned on by just that, um, glimpse in the shower?"
"Yeah."
She shifted a little, but he seemed unwilling or unable to move yet. "Oh. Wow," she repeated. "Um, John...shouldn't you be getting up now? I mean, unless you like having your bare ass hanging out towards the door?"
He laughed. "Yeah, I like it fine, baby, but not as much as taking yours." He lifted his head, kissed her. Slid out and straightened, pulling her gently to a seated position. He kept kissing her, cupping her breasts now, caressing as his mouth wooed and beguiled hers.
A knock sounded on the door. Moira gasped, nearly bit John's tongue. He drew back, hands going still on her breasts. He looked over his shoulder. "Are you there, Moira?" Carson's voice sounded on the other side of the door. "Something's blocking the window and the camera isn't working right. Moira, are you–"
"Fine!" she called. "Don't open the door!" She scrambled, shoving John who was trying not to laugh at her consternation. "Damn it, John, it's not funny!" She jumped off the table, yanking down her bra and shirt. Scrambling into panties and pants. "Just a sec, Carson! John was inputting his codes and the camera went all wonky but he's fixing it now!"
"Inputting my codes? Oh yeah, baby, repeatedly," John teased, watching her.
"John! Put that thing away, would you! Damn it!" she hissed, shoving him again.
He laughed, pulled up his pants and shorts which had fallen to his ankles. "Just a sec, Carson!"
"John's with you, then? Shall I come back in ten minutes?"
"Carson!" Moira exclaimed, blushing but John laughed.
"Yeah, make it fifteen, Carson, no, twenty!"
"Shut up, John!" She shoved past him. "Just a sec! John's almost got it working!"
"I had it working, baby, full fucking throttle and I ow!" he complained as she hit his arm.
"Camera!"
He sighed, turned and moved to it. Leapt up and snatched the lab coat off the camera. Threw it onto a table. "Sweater, darn it. I like you this way, baby, so–"
"Barn door!" she hissed, glaring.
"Huh? Oh." He snorted, shoving himself into his clothes. Distracted he watched her yank the sweater off the window, her shirt lifting until she pulled the bulky garment onto her. He yanked up his zipper. "Shit, Moy, you don't need that son of a bitch!"
She whirled at his sudden exclamation. "John?"
"Fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, son of a bitch!" he moaned, hunching over, hands at his crotch.
"John? Are you...all right?" she asked, a laugh slipping between her words.
"It's not funny, Moy! Fuck!" He unzipped, felt around. "I was watching you and damned if that pert little ass didn't wake up my–"
"John! Don't tell me you can deploy that fast again! Can you? John, put it away for God's sake!" she scolded, smirking.
"Shit! That left a mark. Look." He was pulling himself out for her to see.
"John, put it away unless you want the world to see!"
"What? Oh shit!" He tucked himself into his clothes after glancing at the camera. Turning quickly to block the view of himself. He snorted. "Fuck...Moira...I better check that particular security tape and erase it."
"You think?" she snapped, but shook her head.
"Is everything all right in there, love?" Carson asked, peering in the window. "Has John gone and done himself an injury?" The doctor was trying not to laugh.
Moira glanced at John, saw he was decent at last. She unlocked, opened the door. "Yes, Carson, he has. If you would care to look–"
"I'm fine!" He stepped behind her, swatted her rear. "It's not funny, Moira! Carson."
"John." Carson entered the lab, shook his head. Saw the table askew. The monitor perched at an odd angle. Files on the floor. Folders disrupted. "John, would it kill you to be more, shall we say, conventional? Like getting a room? A bedroom, for instance?"
"A bedroom..." John considered, as Moira stepped out of the lab, embarrassed. He followed. "Well, I suppose, but Moira...Moira does enjoy her lab work, don't you, Moira?"
"Shut up, John!" She turned. "Sorry, Carson...I...um..that is to say he...he..."
"Yeah, it's my fault, Carson, I just had to input my code. Repeatedly. Didn't I, Moira? Repeatedly until all that sweet data was scrolling wildly, huh?"
Moira scowled. "Shut up! You and your damn ordnance!"
"Hey! I suffered a serious injury so you better make nice and take care of–"
"Oh please! If you can't zip up your own pants, colonel, then I can't–"
"Are you offering to zip my pants, doctor, or unzip them?"
"Get a room, the pair of you!" Carson scolded, laughed.
"Sorry, Carson! I have work to do!" Moira headed for the door, grabbing her folders on the way.
"That you do, Moira. You owe me after your heartless disparagement of my injury," John called, winked at Carson and followed her out of the lab. "Hey, baby, need me to input more cock, er, codes? Hey, baby, do you want me to collate that pert little ass until you–"
"John Sheppard!" She whirled as he reached her. Glared but he was smiling. Playful, eyes full of love, of happiness. She smirked. "Stand down, colonel, all right? I owe you nothing!" They began to stroll down the hallway. "You should be thanking me, colonel. On your knees for helping you with your dire predicament. Well?"
"You're right, baby, but you thoroughly enjoyed helping me, so I think we're even on that score."
She giggled. "True, sweetie. Now go! Go to work, John!"