Synthesis4

John felt the cold air on his naked body. Chilling the sweat, the other fluids on him. He scowled at Moira who was glaring at him. Naked body pressed against the wall as he held her there. "Fuck! That really hurt, baby," he pouted. "You may have impaired my secondary ordnance."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, sweetie! I didn't bite you that hard. Did I? John?" Suddenly worried she touched his arm as he freed her. She touched his lips. "Did I? Oh shit...are you bleeding? John, John, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to–"

He laughed, pulled her into a lengthy kiss. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His hands slid down to grab her rear, to squeeze. Moira squealed, squirming as he shoved her cleft along his cock again. He freed her mouth, smiled. "Ah baby...you're right. I wish that had been my cock."

"John! You–"

"Shut up, Moira." He kissed her, moving her gently against the wall. Slid his mouth along her skin. Sending shivers not of cold but of desire as he mouthed her breasts again. Sucking. Teasing. "I'm going to fuck those socks off you," he teased.

Moira's fingers slid along his shoulders. "I'd like to see you try, flyboy," she taunted. Stared as she felt him getting hard at her dare. "John, again? You–"

"I can't get enough of it, baby." He grabbed her wrists, held them up over her head. Smiled. "Like this now, okay? I'm going to bounce that pert little ass on the wall. Oh, and remember, Moira. John Sheppard. John Sheppard," he stressed the last name.

"Hilarious, John! You are supposed to be resting not oh John, oh John!" she moaned as he slid into her again. She kissed him. Kept kissing him as he thrust slowly, gently now. Not quite as hard as earlier but hard enough to need a release. To give them another rush of pleasure. Moira freed her wrists to slide her hands along his sides, his back. She grabbed his clenching rear and squeezed, making him groan, start in surprise. Coming inside her as she clenched, cried out as she followed him.

John sighed happily. Sated. He slid out of her. Led her to the bed. All but collapsed into it. Moaned as his leg burned, his arm was sore. His side ached. "On top."

Moira got in next to him. Slid carefully onto him. Propped herself up on one elbow to meet his gaze. "John...we..."

"That was some serious fucking, baby. So sweet."

"You sound so proud, sweetie," she teased, shaking her head. "What the hell is wrong with us?"

He smiled. Touched her rosy cheek. "Nothing, baby. We had some...issues to work out, and we did. In our own unique way. Our own pleasurable, exuberant way."

"But, but...sweetie, I bit your tongue!"

He laughed at her consternation. "Yeah, you did, baby. And my ear. Fuck that turns me on. Seriously, Moira, we're fine. We're fine now. We'd never hurt each other. It's all right."

"Is it?" she wondered. Worrying. "I never...I never... I mean...I don't want to hurt you, John!"

"You won't, baby. It's all right. I know just how far to push, don't I? You will too."

"Okay, I guess." Doubtful she snuggled on him. His arms encircled her. "John...we're going to be so sore tomorrow." She giggled against his chest. "Sore from our injuries. From all the wild sex. From the constant sex."

"Yeah. Don't care, baby. We needed it. All of it," he retorted, relaxing under her.

"John, will we have a few days together?"

"Yes. While we heal. Take our time healing, if you get my meaning. Lots of healing. Lots of–"

"Got it, colonel." She closed her eyes. "John...we...I mean...I...I–"

"No. No more post-coital. It's done. Over. We're past all of it now, baby. Go to sleep." He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her on him. The sex. The love. "And it's not O'Meara. Sheppard. Moira Sheppard. I'm serious, sweetheart. Moira Sheppard."

"Okay, John Sheppard. Go to sleep, would you?"

He chuckled. "As ordered, baby."

Morning sunlight streamed into the room. Into John's eyes as he woke, blinked. He found himself sprawled in the bed. Moira sound asleep on top of him. He kissed her. Gently scooted out from under her. He slipped out of the bed, snatching his boxers out of the sheets. Snatched her panties. Smirked. Carried both to his room.

Moira woke. Rolled, finding herself alone in the bed. "John?" She pulled on her nightshirt. Reached around in the sheets. Frowned. Slipped out of bed. "John?" She crossed the threshold to his room.

"Here, Moira!" he called from the bathroom.

Moira put her hands on her hips as he emerged, freshly showered and shaved. Clad in a white button-down shirt and brown slacks. Shoes. He smiled at her. She frowned, even as her gaze wandered enjoyably over him. "John Sheppard, where are my panties?"

He laughed. Gave her a dazzling smile. "You really want to know, Moira? Don't move. I'll go grab us some breakfast. And don't change either."

She smiled. "Okay, John. I am hungry."

"Good. Work up an appetite, did you? Back in ten." He moved to her, kissed her. "No undies," he teased into her ear. Left limping.

Moira shook her head, amused. Enamored. Relaxed. Relieved that everything was out in the open. That they had seemingly moved past it now. That the weight of guilt and sorrow was dissipated. No longer a burden on her. She moved to her room. Showered. Pulled on a long-sleeved purple shirt with matching underwear. A pair of jeans. She sat at the table, waiting. Fingered the data pad and the flash drive.

"Colonel, hold up!"

John swore. Slowed as he balanced a tray loaded with food. "Yes?"

Carson smiled, catching up to him. Eyed the contents of the tray. "Breakfast in bed, is it? That's very romantic of you."

"No. It's practical, is all," John deflected. "And it's breakfast at a table. What do you want, Carson? I'm on a tight schedule here."

Carson laughed, strolled next to him. "I bet you are, colonel. I need to see you in the infirmary. I want to check those stitches. And your leg as well. It can wait until after breakfast."

"Okay." He glanced at the doctor who was still walking with him. "Is there something else?"

"Och, no. I thought I'd pop in on Moira and see how she's doing. That food is for her too, right?"

"Yes. Like I said, tight schedule. You don't need her help with the, the autopsy, do you? I think it would be better if you left her out of it."

"True. Is she feeling better?"

"Yes. And I'd like her to stay that way, so can you continue without her help?"

"Aye, of course. I'll just share my findings with her."

"Okay. You can go away now," John said, standing at the door. Waiting.

Carson laughed. "A wee bit protective, are we, colonel? Fine. I'll see her later then. And you had better report to me within the hour."

John sighed. Entered her room and carried the tray to the table. "Moira?"

"Here, John." She moved to him, eyed the food. "Pancakes?"

John's gaze roved over her clothes. The purple shirt's V-neck dipped slightly, giving him a glimpse of the swells of her breasts. The jeans hugged her rear as she turned away to push the data pad out of the way. She sat at the table, flung her hair behind her shoulders. "John?"

He sat next to her. Grabbed his plate of waffles. "Syrup?" he offered. "Or this?"

She snorted. "Caramel? Hilarious, John. Syrup, please."

"Oh." He sighed. "Maybe later, then." He poured the syrup on her pancakes, on his waffles.

"Thank you, sweetie. Such a gentleman."

"I'm always a gentleman, baby." He paused as she took a bite. "Even when my cock isn't deep, deep inside you."

Moira nearly choked on her food. Swallowed, coughed. "John!" She drank some orange juice as he laughed.

"What? Isn't that true, sweetheart?"

"No! Not always. Now shut up and eat!"

"Oh. Right. You like to watch me eat, don't you?" he teased. Licked his lips slowly.

"Stop it, John!" She ate some more as he began to eat with big bites.

He smiled. Loving the effect he had on her. That she had on him. The attraction vibrant. Sensual. Rippling between them even after the night of repeated sex. "Carson wants to see me. Check my arm and my leg. Will you wait here for me?"

"No. I should be helping him with–"

"No. He said he doesn't need you. Not until after he's done. Besides, you and I need to work on that flash drive, right? Our eyes only, you said. How does your side feel?"

"A little sore, but otherwise fine. What about you?"

"Me? I've never felt better, Moira. No, that's not true. I've only felt better when my cock is deep, deep inside you." He smiled.

She sighed, threw a napkin at him. "Go!"

He laughed. Stood. Moved to stand behind her. He leaned down to kiss her generously. "Hmm...sticky," he intoned, voice low. Suggestive. A sexy whisper in her ear. "I like sticky. Sweet and sticky, wasn't it, baby?"

She laughed, playfully elbowed his chest. "Shut up, John! It's maple syrup!"

He laughed. "It is? Oh...yeah...you don't taste like that."

"John! Go!"she laughed at his provocative words. His mischievous expression.

"What? It's true, baby. Oh, do I taste like that? Do you want to see if–" he made to unzip his pants.

"John Sheppard!" she laughed, pushing him again. "Keep it in your pants, would you?"

"Must I? Okay, for now. You keep that pert little ass in here, baby. Back in ten."

"As ordered, sweetie. Now go."

"Going," he called over his shoulder, leaving the room.

John limped into the infirmary, paused. Carson pointed to a bed while talking to a nurse. John sighed, moved to it. Sat on it, swinging his legs up with a groan. Impatiently he drummed his fingers on the bed. Wanting to return to Moira. To their teasing flirtations. To the promise of foreplay, passion, sex.

Carson finished, stepped to him. "All right, colonel, let's have a look, shall we?"

"Must we?" John countered. "Are you sure that bruise on Moira's side isn't serious?"

"Yes. It's just a bruise. Nothing more, thank goodness. She could have suffered a serious injury. Whoever did it must have pulled back at the last possible second, or she somehow swerved out of the way in time."

"So she didn't say how it happened?" John asked, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the bandage on his arm.

"No. Only that she got in the middle of a fight and it was her own fault."

"Ow!" John winced at the probing as Carson undid the bandage. Make annoyed sounds seeing the stitches were uneven. John was thinking of Moira. How she was still protecting him. Not blaming him although he blamed himself. Felt terrible about the accident.

"Hold still! What the hell have you been doing, John? Why do I even bother? You might actually heal for once if you would just take it easy and avoid all strenuous activity! I shall have to get Moira on your case about it. You might listen to her."

John smiled. "I am resting. And yes, she is on my case. As always. On my...case."

"And you love every minute of it, don't you?" Carson teased. Sighed. "Let's see how the leg is, then. At least there are no stitches there for you to unravel." Carson examined the wound, unwrapping it. "At least this is healing...but you're still having trouble walking?"

"Some," John admitted. "It's sore and stiff."

"Then keep off it, you silly man! Oh!" Carson glanced round, smiled. "When I found the keycard in your pants I also found this." He pulled a skimpy pair of panties from his coat. "Yours, I take it?"

John smirked, snatched them. Shoved them into his pocket. Felt a blush warm his face. "No! Well, yes, I mean...she...I can explain. Moira. She..I...um..that is..."

Carson laughed "I assumed they were Moira's."

"Of course they are Moira's! I...um...there is a good reason I have them...a damn good reason."

"Take your time, John, I can't wait to hear this. John, are you blushing?"

"No! I am not!" he snapped, but sheepishly shrugged. Grinned. "It's not what it looks like! Okay, it is what it looks like, but it's not–"

"Don't." Carson held up a hand. "Please. I don't want to know. It looks like I'll be able to remove those stitches in a day or so, providing you don't take them out yourself. Which I would advise against, by the way."

"Good. No more Frankenstein's monster's arm," John quipped.

"Aye, colonel. Now get out of my medical bay, would you? And mind you return that stolen property." He laughed at John's scowl. Shook his head, amused.

John sobered. Stood. "What have you discovered about Ford?" he asked, glancing back towards the morgue where the body was.

Carson frowned. "Quite a bit, actually, as far as tissue regeneration goes. The Wraith cells not only metastasises the regenerative properties to his arm but also to his torso, in effect creating a symbiosis of Wraith and human genetic material but in a new combination that resulted in a fusion of conflicting genomes."

John stared. Blinked. "Sorry I asked."

Carson shrugged. "Well, you did, colonel. I expect Moira will be more interested than you are. At any rate we are still studying the cells and the way the tissues have bonded, with the enzyme as a cohesive, if you will, to generate a potentially new creation, a new species that–"

"Okay, okay, never mind!" John started to limp out of the infirmary. "Just boil it down to simple words and facts, doctor."

"I'll give you the ABC version, then, colonel," Carson called after him.

"Thank you!"