Synthesis10
The knocking woke John out of his blissful sleep. He stirred, moving. He was on his side, entangled with Moira. Their naked bodies pressing under the blanket. Dry from the shower, the sweat, the sex. Warm and cozy snuggled together. Body heat wafting as he lifted the blanket, then settled it upon them again. Scents of sex and roses hovering. Of him. Of her.
"John?" Moira stirred against him. Her body deliciously warm, soft. Pliable. Erotic as she slid along his. Blinked open her eyes.
"Ignore it," he said quietly. He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. Onto him. "Ssh."
"But it could–"
"Don't care. Ssh." He kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her slightly swollen lips. Smirked. "They're probably checking to see if we survived our sexual exuberance. Ssh."
Moira shifted on top of him. "Is, is the door locked?" she asked softly. Trying to scoot under the blanket to hide in case it was not.
John smiled. "I don't know. Did you lock it?" His arm slid round her, pinning her to him as she squirmed. "Ssh. Keep still, baby. I'll cover you. Literally, actually." He rolled so she was beneath him. Kissed her. Kept kissing her until she murmured, forgetting about the door as he distracted her.
"Oh John, oh John,"she whispered, returning his kisses.
"Oh Moira, oh Moira," he echoed, smiled. "See? All gone."
"For now." She gasped as he rolled onto his back again, held her on top of him. Hands sliding down her back, along her curves. To gently squeeze her rear. "John! John, I've been thinking. Are we having too much–"
"Sex again? No, hell no. And not too much exuberance either," he continued before she could protest. "Or intensity. Although that was pretty fucking intense fucking, baby. Six. Six!" he beamed smugly.
"Shut up, John. Geez!" But she smiled, kissed him.
"Baby, I never knew the color green would turn you on like that. Wow. Seriously, wow."
"Shut up, John. It was the exuberant romance. And yes...the green," she admitted.
"Ah ha! See! Oh, shirt or boxers?"
"Both." He laughed. She smiled, kissed him. "John...we, um...I mean...you..." She sat, sliding off him. Covered herself with the blanket. Looked round the room. The light was grey as the sun descended. She stared at the proliferation of roses. Bit her lower lip, debating. John was staring, staring. Watched her nibble before releasing her lip. "We need...we need to be serious, John. We need to talk. But not like this."
"Not naked in bed, you mean?" he asked, touching her thigh. Stroking.
"No. Serious, John. We...we have to talk about things. About this whole mess. About, about the biting too. The escalation of..."
"Oral erotic fixation?" he asked, savoring each word. "Yes. I am so looking forward to that particular conversation, baby. But we need to wait. At least..." he lifted the blanket. "At least for an hour, or two."
"What? Why?" She looked at him. He dropped the blanket over him. Smiled. She rolled her eyes. "Hilarious, John! We are not having sex during that conversation! Or afterwards! I'm serious, John! Can't you be serious?"
"Of course I can be serious, Moira. Just not now. Not when we are naked in bed after glorious hours of exuberant sex. Not when you are glowing with all those orgasms and so fucking beautiful I want to just keep you right here. Like this. Not with rose petals sticking to your back and your pert little ass, baby." He laughed, ran his hand down her back, dislodging them.
"John!" She batted his hand away, frowning. "More importantly we need to talk to Weir."
"No." He smiled. "About the oral erotic fixation," he said, savoring each word again, "I can promise you I will never, never hurt you. I'll never leave a mark on you. But you can leave marks on me. Like this." He showed her his knuckle. The teeth indentations.
Moira stared. "John? I'm sorry! Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"
He smiled at her mortification. It was arousing him again. "No. I like it. I like bringing you so hard you bite me. In fact, baby, you can hurt me a little. I'd like you to do that now. Biting, scratching...clenching on my cock so hard it makes me stiff as a board. But no hard biting on my ordnance," he continued seriously, "no biting hard. What you did earlier, that was fine. That was sweet fucking bliss. I've seen you bite a popsicle, Moira, and you can't bite my cock like that or we will both be unhappy."
She stared at him. "You...you want me to...to bite..."
"Yes. A little. Like this," he showed her his knuckle again. "Or when you are nibbling my neck, my shoulder, my lips, my ear, whatever, wherever. It's a turn-on for me. When you are turned on and exuberant and coming so hard, so fast, so helplessly aroused and pleasured. Pleasured by me. You make these sounds, delicious sounds and it turns me on too. Makes me rock hard. And when you nibble or bite...when you bite...I want that. Okay, Moira? You won't hurt me. I know you think it's kinky and well, it's a guy thing. A John thing. Like your Moira thing. You know. It gets me off in a rush of–"
"Moira thing?" she asked.
"Yeah, you know. Anyway, my point is you can bite me all you–"
"What Moira thing? I have a Moira thing?" she asked, puzzled.
He grinned at her perplexed expression. "Oh yes. You do, baby."
"I do not! Unless you mean the, the earlobe?"
"No."
"Then what?" At his smug smile she frowned. "John! What?"
"You really don't know? Well, I know. And that's all that matters. I know exactly how to turn you on, baby. Besides the earlobe. Besides green."
"You're just teasing me," she decided, looked away from him. "We need to see Weir. But first we need to have dinner. I can straighten out this mess, John, don't you worry." She eyed him.
"No." He languidly stretched. Yawned. Looking so content, so utterly satisfied she shook her head, sighed. He appeared deliciously handsome and available. She had to look away again. Emotions overwhelming. She clutched the blankets. "Oh oh, here come the melodrama," he teased.
"No." She stared at the roses. So many. So vivid. All the colors. Breathing all the scents. She swallowed a sob. Laid down, snuggling against him suddenly. His arm slipped around her. Stroking. Comforting. "John...John...I can't. I just...I just can't..."
"Can't what, sweetheart?" he asked, kissing her brow.
"I can't...I can't lose you, John,"she admitted in a small voice. "I can't let you go. Even though I should, I know...all the, all the flak...all the...John, John, please...please..." Her fingers clutched.
He kissed her. "Ssh, Moira. I won't let you go. Ever. I can't let you go. Never mind the flak, sweetheart, I can handle it. Don't you worry. Nothing gets between us. No one." He lifted her face to his, kissed her lips. "I'll give you a hint. About the Moira thing. Tongue."
"Tongue?" she asked, distracted. Her hold gentled on him. Comforted by his assurances. "You do all sorts of things with your tongue. All of them very, very wonderful."
"Yeah, I know. But there's this one thing. One little thing that makes you just...well, let's see if you can figure it out, shall we? If not we'll just have to have sex again so you can."
"Hilarious, John." She sighed. Snuggled. "I wish we could stay here. Like this. Just you. Me. But we have to have dinner. See Weir. Clear up this, this mess."
"No, sweetheart. We can stay here, but I wouldn't mind having dinner. That's all. I'll handle the flak, don't you worry, baby. Ignore all that shit I said earlier. I was drunk."
"Oh!" She sat, wrapping the blanket around her. "The flash drive! Damn it! I forgot all about it! I need your help to break the encryption."
"Okay. Later." He sat. Kissed her. "Let's go, Moira. Dinner. Then back here to have sex until you figure out the Moira thing." He got out of the bed, gathered his scattered clothes.
"John! No! Dinner, see Weir, then the flash drive. And don't take my panties!"
He laughed. "Too late, baby. They are nice and sodden." He crossed into his room, waving them over his shoulder at her.
"John! Damn it!" He laughed again. She scrambled out of the bed, collecting her clothes. Selecting clean underwear and cleaned up in the bathroom. She emerged. Hair neatly combed, tied back from her rosy face. A turquoise t-shirt and jeans covering her. She changed socks, pulled on shoes. Stood by the bed, staring at the disordered blankets. The rose petals crushed, scattered. The cracked headboard. "John! John!"
He strolled into the room, eyed her. "What?" Hands on her hips she was surveying the damage.
"Look!" She pointed. "The headboard! Can you–" she stopped, looking at him. He had on the black and green flannel shirt, was buttoning it slowly. The black jeans. Boots. "You...you can't wear that," she warned.
He smiled. Eyed the headboard. "Wow." He neared, touched the crack. The splintered side. Leaned over to examine it. "Well, well, we certainly are doing a number on this, aren't we?" The pride rang in his voice.
"It's not funny! Can you fix it?" She was staring at his rear, outlined in the tight jeans. He leaned over farther and the shirt lifted on one side, giving her a glimpse of his bare skin.
"Yeah, maybe. But I won't."
"Won't? Why?"
He straightened, turned. Smiled. Saw the admiration, the love. "Let's see if we can break it, Moira. Completely snap it in two. While we are one," he added with a leer.
"No! You need to fix it. Now! And you, you can't wear that."
"Why not? It makes you happy, Moira. It makes you want me," he added, ignoring her concerns over the headboard. "Which in turn makes me want you. So."
"Yes, but...you..." She moved to him. Touched his arm. "You are too, too gorgeous in that."
He smiled. "I know." At her annoyance he laughed. "Besides, I have this now." He held up his left hand. Showed her the wedding ring. "Hey, where is yours, by the way?"
"Oh! I forgot–"
"You forgot? That's unacceptable, baby. You are mine. My wife. Mine. Every inch. Let me." He slipped his hand down the front of her shirt. Into the bra, across a breast. "Hmm...can't seem to find it, baby."
She laughed. "John!" She pulled his hand out of her shirt. Pulled the chain free. She unhooked it, and set it aside, sliding the two rings free of it. He took them suddenly from her. He moved to one knee in front of her. Took her left hand. Slid the rings onto her fourth finger. Moira stared, startled. Stunned. Almost forgetting to breath.
"Will you marry me, Moira? Oh, yeah, you already did. Moira Sheppard." He stood. Drew her into his arms, kissed her. A lengthy, searing kiss. Slid his tongue into her mouth. He pulled back, smiled. "My Moira. Only on base."
"Huh?" Dazzled she could only stare.
"The rings. Only here. Not off world. Let's go. I'm starving! Need to replenish my energy."
"John...oh John...you..." She flung herself into his arms, kissing him.
After several kisses he gently freed her. "Whoa, don't get all girly on me now, Moira. At least wait until I've eaten, okay? Wow." He led her out of the room. Down the hallway.
"John!" She stopped, pulling him to her. "We can't!"
"Can't what? Eat? We have to eat, Moira," he reasoned.
"No! I mean we...we...what if, what if someone...what if someone...you were so loud, John! And I was really, um, loud...we..."
He smiled. Charmed by her embarrassment. "So? We're married. We have passionate sex. If there's any flak I'll handle it. Now let's go. We're not going to hide, Moira. I'm not going down that road, nor are you. Let's go." Moira followed him. Reluctant. Head down as if she had done something wrong. She nearly crashed into him as he stopped, turned to her. "Moira! Get us a table. In the back. Coke or lemonade? Moira?"
"Huh?" She met his gaze. Colored. "I...um..."
He shook his head. "Focus, baby. You'd think I'd given you six orgasms. Oh wait, I did."
"John! Shut up! And it was four."
He laughed. "Go. Table. In the back." He watched her move to the back of the cafeteria. Find a table near the wall. Almost lost in the shadows. He shook his head again. Glanced at the other people before moving into line to get their food.
Moira sat, waiting. Reassured as no one was looking at her, noticing her. The women were too busy staring at John. The men busy eating. She smiled as Katie joined her. "Hi."
"Hi. I trust the colonel is back in your good graces then? He took every single rose I had! But he was so cute and embarrassed and worried about you, Moira, about how you might still be oh my God!"
John looked over, tensing at the exclamation. But relaxed. Moira was smiling. Katie had hold of her left hand.
"You...you...you..." Katie stammered, staring at the rings.
Moira laughed. "Yes. We got married back on Earth. We had to keep it quiet because of the–"
"Congratulations! Oh Moira! That's wonderful!" Katie leaned over to hug her friend. Sat back. "Tell me everything! Everything! I want details! That ring! How many carats? Is it real?"
Moira flaunted it. "Yes, it is real. A real diamond! Seven."
"Seven and a half, actually," John corrected, sitting next to Moira. He set the trays on the table.
"Colonel...congratulations! How did you ever afford that?"
"I, um, know some people..." he vaguely answered, glanced at Moira. He began to eat.
"What's the inscription on the wedding band?"
"Gra anois agus godeo. Gaelic for–"
"Sex now and forever," John quipped. Katie snorted and Moira nearly did a spit take.
"John! Love now and forever!" she corrected, setting down her Coke with a glare.
"Are you sure, Moira? You told me it meant sex. Sex now and as often as we–"
"Shut up, John!" She elbowed him as he laughed. "The rings belonged to my grandmother. John has some fancy gold bands but he misplaced them so we used these."
"It's lovely! So romantic! Tell me about the ceremony!" Katie enthused.
"No. No girl talk while I'm at the table," John warned. "Besides, there was nothing to it. We pledged, signed, exchanged rings. Done deal. Now, the honeymoon. That was something! Ow!" he complained as her elbow hit his side.
"John! Eat your dinner!" She looked at Katie. "It was lovely, but quick. And sweet. We had–"
"Just like the honeymoon, but that was long," he drew out the word, "and so, so sweet."
"John! Eat!" He laughed. Moira sighed. "We didn't have a lot of time because we had to get back to Atlantis and only had a day to–"
"And a night to seriously okay, okay," he grinned at her dirty look. "Eating. No girl talk," he warned, "or I will reveal every detail, Moira."
"Fine," she sighed. "I'll tell you later, once Colonel Grumpy is busy somewhere else."
Katie laughed. "Okay. Congratulations, again! I'll leave you two lovebirds alone." She laughed, left them.
John shook his head. "Wonderful. I'm serious, Moira. No girl talk around me, okay? What? Why aren't you eating?" he asked. Moira was staring at nothing. Sipping her Coke.
"I'm just thinking. About what to say to Weir."
"No. No thinking. Six. Six, baby," he intoned, hand moving to touch her thigh under the table. "And the night is young."
"Four, sweetie. Will you reign in that libido of yours, John? God, you'd think you were on the enzyme, not me!" She sighed. "Sorry. I'm tired. I don't feel very well...something I ate, I guess."
"You've hardly eaten a thing, sweetheart." He touched her rosy cheek. "You feel hot, Moira. Are you sure you're okay? I thought you were just flushed because of us, but now..."
"I'm fine. What do you expect after four fucking orgasms?" she teased. Grabbed half of his sandwich and bit into it.
"Six. Exuberant fucking orgasms," he corrected with a wink. Relaxing as she ate.