Synthesis6

Elizabeth glanced at the clock. Glanced at her watch. At the corner of her computer where the time ticked away second by second. All three matched. Telling her that the allotted two hours was over in ten minutes. She frowned. Sighed. Brushed a curling strand of her dark hair behind her ear. She wondered if John would make an appearance as she had requested. If he would bother to make an appearance at all. She shook her head.

Her fingers moved to her earpiece but she paused. Wondered if he even had it on. Or near him. She debated paging him over the public comm unit. Smirked when she considered his reaction. It was obvious she had interrupted some serious foreplay when she had knocked on his door. Moira's flushed face, messy hair. Bra-less shirt. Hard, wet nipples poking the fabric. Wet from John's mouth. She could imagine that those perfect, full lips sucking Moira's breasts.

Elizabeth shifted in her chair. Startled by her sudden reactions, thoughts. Embarrassed. She dismissed all images of John. Although he had hidden his frustration well, nearly as well as he had hidden his physical reactions behind the large notebook. But she had seen the smouldering intensity in his eyes when he had glanced at Moira.

She had no doubt that the two of them has resumed their interrupted sexual activity. Amusement turned to exasperation. Annoyance. She pressed the button on the comm unit. "Colonel Sheppard, report to my office immediately!"

The stern voice broke out of the comm unit on the wall. Interrupting the musical moans and grunts emanating from under the blankets. The rising crescendo continued, unabated until it reached a fever pitch, until both voices mingled in orgasmic release. The sounds softened, quieted.

John slid up. His head popped out of the blankets as he shifted, slid out of Moira. He turned his head to view the clock after a glare at the comm unit. "Fuck." He scowled. Then smiled. Moira was moving under him. She ran kisses down his chest. Fingers stroking his sides as her teeth found a nipple. John groaned.

He scooted back under the blankets, flinging them over their heads. "Ten minutes! Why the hell is she calling me now? We have ten fucking minutes!" he groused. Kissed her lips as he caught a breast, caressed gently.

Moira smiled. Touched his cheek, his jaw. "John...oh John...what can you possibly do in ten?" she teased, her voice a soft, sensual purr as she moved under him.

He smiled.

"Am I interrupting?" Carson hesitated on the threshold to the office. Data pad in one hand.

Elizabeth freed the pencil from her mouth, unaware she had been gnawing on it. "No. Please, Carson, come in. I'm just waiting for John."

"Oh. I've finished the autopsy on poor Lieutenant Ford and I have the preliminary findings. Nothing that we didn't expect. Still I'd like to go over the Wraith biological cellular distribution with Moira first before I present my full report," Carson informed, taking a chair in front of the desk. He glanced down at the pencil, saw the tooth marks.

"Good luck with that," Elizabeth mocked. Shrugged at Carson's quizzical expression. "Carson...what the hell is wrong with them?"

"Wrong?"

"Yes!"

"With whom? With Moira and John?" the doctor guessed, puzzled at her mood. Her irritated tone. She appeared tense.

"Yes!"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing? They, they are, are..." she spluttered.

"In love with each other?"

"Obsessed with each other!" she flared.

"Passionate. That's all," Carson corrected. "There's nothing wrong with them, Elizabeth. Why would you even suggest such a thing? They did just get married after all, and have been through a very difficult, upsetting mission."

"Don't make excuses for them! Why, you're as bad as they are! As he is. You released him to go on that mission in the first place, Carson! And stupidly I allowed him to go! I thought he would have exercised more sense than that, but I was wrong! And to go after Moira alone? What the hell was he thinking?"

Carson sat back, surprised at the vehemence of her voice, her words. Normally she was more in control of her emotions. Reactions. "I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't have stopped him even if I tried. Nor could you. What did you expect, Elizabeth? It was his wife out there in harm's way. His wife."

"That doesn't matter. I mean of course it matters," she temporized to his startled blue gaze, "but he can't let personal feelings affect his decisions. Not on missions. Not out here. I intend to lay down the law once he gets here, if he gets here."

"That's probably not a very good idea, Elizabeth. Why don't you calm down a wee bit and then talk to him?"

"I'm perfectly calm, Carson. When your report is finalized let me know."

Carson recognized the tones of dismissal. He stood. "Very well. Just tread lightly here, Elizabeth, please. This is new territory for all of us. Especially John. And you. And Moira. Tread lightly."

Moira scrambled. Trying to catch her breath. Slipping, sliding out from under John. She scooted out from under the blankets, on her stomach. Glanced over at the clock. "Five. John, did you hear me? Five!" She moaned as his slid along her. Kissing up her back to her shoulder. His body pressing onto her.

"Five? Are you sure, baby? Because I've counted only four so far...four fucking sweet orgasms."

"Shut up! Five minutes!" She elbowed him. He laughed, rolled onto his back. Breathing deeply of the warm air. The sex heavy between them, on them. "John! Move that fine, fine ass of yours, will you?"

John sighed. Sat. "I already did, baby, repeatedly. Five? Shit, why didn't you tell me?" he snapped, scrambling out of the bed. He grabbed his scattered clothing on the way to the bathroom.

Moira laughed. " I did, sweetie." She slid out of the blankets, hastily pulled on a clean pair of underwear, a bra, her clothing as she heard the toilet flush. Water running. She entered the bathroom, smiled. John was standing at the sink, zipping his pants. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Hey, flyboy." She hugged him from behind. Pressing against his broad shoulders, strong back. She freed him as he smiled.

"Ah, baby...do I look like I just had exuberant sex? Twice?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Good! That's the look I was going for."

She smiled. Ran her hand down his back to his rear. She squeezed. "Such a fine, fine six you have here, colonel. Even in those cute boxers."

"Don't make fun of my undies, baby. And stop sexually harassing me."

She laughed. "Shut up! You love it!" Considered. "John," she said hotly, "what gives you pleasure? I mean, what do you like? That I haven't done yet, I mean. Besides going down, I mean." She ran her hand between his legs, groping. "Does it involve the boys?"

"Whoa, whoa, baby, that's sensitive equipment. Classified."

"I'm sure I have security clearance, sweetie. Seriously, John, you give me such, such pleasure! Such astounding sexual pleasure in so many ways, which in turn pleasures you, I know. But there must be some other turn-ons you haven't told me about yet. And what about the biting, John? This concerns me. The escalation of that, from gentle nibbling to more actual biting."

"Are you trying to give me another hard-on, Moira? Geez!" He batted her hands away from him. "Cut it out, would you? I've got to see Weir in five."

"Sorry, John." She squeezed his rear again. Slid her hand between his legs, fondling his balls, his cock. "The boys? If I do this does that give you a–"

"Moira!" He turned and pulled her roughly into his arms. Kissed her. Gently pushed her back from him. "Cut it out, now! I don't have time for foreplay, damn it. I have to see Weir in five."

"Okay, John...wow, it's not like talking about what turns you on is going to make you come in your pants, is it? And the biting...you actually want me to bite your–"

"Moira!" He covered her mouth with his hand. Amusement sparkling in his green eyes. "That delicious mouth of yours, baby, will make me hard if nothing else will. The things you say!"

She moved his hand away. Kissed it. Playfully sucked on a finger before he pulled free of her. "Sorry, sweetie. Maybe it's the enzyme, I don't know, but that certainly does not explain your erotic, insatiable behavior, now does it? Seriously, John, we have to discuss the strange escalation of this biting. I mean nibbling is one thing...even, even sucking...but actual biting? I know you'd never hurt me, but I'm afraid I'd hurt you. Inadvertently. Like I hurt your tongue, although I did that deliberately. But I could bite you harder than I intend because you bring me so hard, so fast, so fucking intensely I can't control myself half the time. You know, John," she continued, voice solemn, expression concerned, "this is odd. The biting, and the way you want me to clench your cock so tightly inside of me...it's as if you want me to hurt you, just a little. Is that it? You want me to hurt you just enough to get you off? John?"

John was staring at her. Frozen in place. Captivated. Amused. Aroused by her very serious tone, her honest puzzlement. Her rosy lips moist from his mouth. Her hair falling wildly all about her. Her clothes outlining her form and curves. He covered her mouth again with his hand. Scowled. "Seriously, Moira, shut up. Or I will have a raging hard-on and we will have to have rough, rough sex right here on the floor. And I'll be even later to Weir's office and even deeper in it with her. Got it?"

She moved his hand away again, kissed it. Stepped close to kiss his mouth. "As deep as you are with me, sweetie? When your cock is deep, deep inside of me?"

"Fuck." She laughed. He smiled. Kissed her. A deep, probing kiss. Tongue thrusting into her mouth, demanding. He reached round, swatted her rear. "Move that pert little ass, baby!"

She laughed, led him out of the bathroom. But turned, solemn again. "Seriously, John, we need to talk about this. The biting. The–"

"Stop!" He held up a hand. "We will, don't you worry, baby. In detail. In every little detail. With a show and tell that will have you panting for me, drenched for me, and throbbing with animal need. So hungry you'll come when I look at you."

"Shut up, John!" she flared, but her voice was soft. Desirous. "I've been thinking...do you think we've having too much–"

"No, hell no!" He kissed her again. Abruptly left before he became more aroused. He strode, swaggered down the hallway until his leg began to ache. Reminded he slowed, began to limp. A more pronounced limp than was necessary. He licked his lips. Shook his head. Trying to push all thoughts, all memories of Moira from his mind. From his body. He felt so good, so alive. Especially after sex. Sex with Moira. He wondered if she knew how much he got off on her serious scientific analysis of every detail. Her almost innocent concern. He felt as horny as a teenager and felt himself stir at the thought. "Down, boy, please," he muttered, swallowing a laugh.

Schooling his expression he awkwardly climbed the stairs. Limped into Elizabeth's office. "Hi." At her raised eyebrow he limped to a chair, sat gingerly. "Am I late?"

"A little. Don't tell me. Every little detail?"

John looked down at his leg, rubbing it slightly as he stretched it out in front of him. Hid his quick smile. "Yes." He tried to sound aggravated.

"How is the leg?"

He shrugged. "Not bad. Just a little stiff." His mouth quirked, trapping the laugh bubbling inside him. He could only imagine what Moira would make of the word. How she would use it to tease him, arouse him. Get him off with it.

"John?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking." He met her gaze. Perfectly calm. Collected. Switching off his emotions, reactions. Ignoring how much he wanted to have remained in that bathroom, to have continued that particular conversation with Moira. To have been fucking her full throttle. Their naked bodies dancing in the mirrors or the shower. He swallowed, shutting it all down. "It's not bad, but my arm is sore too. Carson said he'll be able to remove the stitches in a few days. But you didn't ask me here for a medical report, did you?"

"No." Her assessing gaze raked over him.

"I know what this is about, Elizabeth. My recklessness? Thought so," he surmised at her look. Part surprise, part annoyance.

"As a matter of fact, John, yes. It is. And before you start on about Moira it has nothing to do with her. Well, not specifically. I don't care who was out there. You shouldn't have gone on a rescue mission, let alone a mission to contain Ford in your state! Look at you, John! Dashing off when you had a concussion that knocked you out for two days! A bullet wound to your leg from which you nearly bled out! Not to mention your arm savagely cut to remove your tracking device! What were you thinking? No, don't answer that!" She held up a hand, forestalling him. "Don't, don't say Moira, or how you were the only one that could save her! That you were the only one who could take care of Ford! Lorne and the marines were more than capable of doing both! More than capable!"

John nodded. Her anger rising to the surface, startling him. "Yes, they were," he mildly agreed. "But they weren't me."

"Why–"

"Two reasons. No, three. No, four." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Ford. My alternate, dark side self. Moira. And because I'm the guy. That guy. It's my job. And just to be clear, nobody knows Ford better than me. Did," he quietly corrected. "And no one knows that dark side version of me better than me. Trust me on this. And yes, Moira. You damn well know if it had been McKay you wouldn't have batted an eye at my going. Hell, you would have pushed me through the Stargate yourself."

"That's not true, John!" she objected. "The needs of this city, of this populace outweigh the rescue of any one person! Your recklessness endangered not only yourself but this city, this populace!"

"And if it had been Rodney where would this city, this populace be? Without him?"

"All right, fair enough. But you still shouldn't have gone!"

"You see? But since it was Moira you think I acted recklessly. I would have gone no matter who was in danger. I would have gone if it had been anyone else. Any of our people. We don't leave our people behind. Any of them," he argued. Anger was brimming.

"But when you are injured you shouldn't be leading a rescue mission, much less going on our own! No matter who it is that needs help! John, you are the military leader of Atlantis! We need you more than any one mission, one rescue, one person. It's a hard burden but you have to accept it."

"I won't leave anyone behind," he stated. Voice terse. "Your hang-up is because it was Moira, isn't it? Let me tell you, Elizabeth, I'd do it again. For anyone. For her. Nothing, nothing will keep me from her. Nothing."

"And that's the problem, John," Elizabeth complained. Glaring at him. "You've become even more reckless. Ever since you first became involved with her. I have no doubt you would have gone after anyone, even wounded as you were. Still are. But because it was Moira you went off by yourself!"

"Yes. To face myself...him. Lorne and his team had their hands full with–"

"That's no excuse! What is it, John? Do you have this compulsion to be her knight in shining armor? Do you think she'll love you less if you aren't the hero every time there's a crisis?"

Her words cut a little too close for comfort. "No! I just–" he began. Defensive.

"Just what? Does she want you to risk your life for her every time there's a crisis?"

"No! But I will. For her. For anyone."

"Will you, John? Recklessly for anyone, or just for her? The IOA is going to have a field day with this! Not to mention the SGC. You think I'm on your case? Just wait, John. Just wait."

He frowned. It sounded like a threat, and he did not respond well to threats. "I can imagine. What did you expect me to do? Just lay back in a bed and wait for Lorne to rescue her?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I expected. What you should have done! Heal your injuries, trust your subordinates and recognize your role here in Atlantis!"

"You don't understand. Ford was an unpredictable psychotic who wanted me to either join his crusade or punish me for not joining. And me...him...the colonel, he was going to take her. Take Moira away from me to that other Atlantis. Through the anomaly. I couldn't allow that." An emotion slipped, but he forced it down. The thought of losing Moira.

"You don't know that for certain."

"Yes, I do know. I know him like no else ever could. It would have happened if I hadn't been there to stop it. To stop him. And it was my duty to eliminate Ford as a threat...one way or another." He scowled.

"I know. I am sorry about that. Truly. It can't have been easy," she commiserated.

"No. It wasn't. But it had to be done. Ford gave me no option."

Elizabeth sighed. "I just need you to realize your importance here. As military commander you have wide-ranging responsibilities. Not only personal ones. Not only to Moira and your team. But to all of Atlantis. To every person based here. You can't go recklessly running after Moira every time something happens to her. To anyone, really. Certainly not when you are injured." She shoved a paper across the desk at him. "I've already received this. Printed it out for you. The IOA...their concerns, shall we say, over your precipitous marriage."

John glanced at the paper. "Great. More crap. Over the transfer list."

"Yes. Wonder how the IOA will interpret that reckless act? And now this? And the ones before? Funny how it all comes down to Moira, isn't it, John?"

His gaze narrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know," she retorted. Irritated by his attitude, his denials.

He stood. "I don't care. Fire me if you need to, that's fine. Recall me to Earth, whatever. Just don't, don't ever try to come between Moira and me," he warned.

"Of course not, John! See how you react? All you need to do is to remember your importance here. Temper your actions. Be reasonable. And a tad more, shall we say, discreet?" She rolled her eyes. "Even though you are married you should still be able to..."

"To what?" he challenged. He stepped behind the chair. To grip the back of it as anger flooded.

"Dial it down? Fuck no. Does it somehow belittle my so-called importance here? Because I am involved in a passionately sexual relationship with my wife? Should I have asked permission before I moved her room next to mine?" he snapped.

"As a matter of fact, yes! You could have informed me! Not only about that but about marrying her in the first place!"

"She's my wife now. That's all I should have to say!"

"I can do without the tone, John!"

"I can do without the attitude. And the constant interference!"

"Then get your act together, John! I'll be blunt, shall I?"

"Aren't you always?" he quipped, but neither cracked a smile.

She stood. Palms pressing down on the desk. "The honeymoon is over. Drop the disappearing act. Drop the recklessness and stop trying to impress her. You've got her, John. Relax."

"I'm perfectly relaxed. It's everyone else who is upset, uptight. Like you."

"You go on believing that, John. I need you to be more professional, less the lover and more the colonel. I've told you this before, and I will again. You can't let your personal feelings for her interfere with your job and your position here. Understand?"

John smiled. A cold smile. So pissed he wanted to shout. Instead his voice was very quiet. Very low. "Oh, I understand, Doctor Weir. Believe me. Nothing is going to come between us. Nothing and no one. You need to understand that."

"John! John!" Elizabeth called, seeing she had pushed him too far. But he turned, and limped out of the office without another word.