Conditioned Association6
Moira filled a plate. Stood eating, listening at the spoke quietly behind her. Laughter and enthusiasm in their voices. She smiled. Relaxing. She started, feeling John suddenly behind her. Standing close, very close.
"So...baby...mission accomplished?" he quietly inquired in her ear.
"You tell me, sweetie."
"I'd say affirmative. Very clever. Very sweet. Very...very beautiful. You are like a tonic to failure. To guilt. You played them expertly. No, not played. Helped. They didn't even know they needed it, or wanted it. So...how?"
"How? I'll tell you a secret, colonel, er, major. It's easy enough." She smiled. Licked her lips. "To get them here, that was easy. Between the cut on my cheek and the girls, well..."
"Ah. I concur with that. And that pert little ass. The rest?"
"Conditioned association."
"Come again?"
"Conditioned association, John. The learning process that brings together two ordinary independent factors that lead to a pleasant outcome. This, for instance. When we get together like this, with food, beer, friendship there are pleasant associations and are expected. I just took what they had contributed and turned it, tweaked it to a positive, which was reinforced by this conditioned association of these particular gatherings."
"Ah. You know it gets me all hot when you talk sciency," he teased, his arms sliding around her.
He pressed his body to hers.
Moira nearly dropped the plate. Set it down. "John? What about you?"
He kissed her throat, hands gliding to cup her breasts. "Me? Even me, for awhile, my Moira. But you know what works best with me. Do you still want me?"
"Yes, John, I–"
"Want me to fuck you exquisitely, slowly, bring you to a slow, long, endless set of climaxes, one more vibrant than the next? Possess you utterly, Moira, every sweet inch of you?" he asked, voice low, husky. Breath tickling her ear, her neck.
"Oh God yes, I mean yes, I, John!" She found herself squirming against him, his hand sliding down between her legs to caress boldly. Mouth on her throat, nibbling along the skin to her earlobe. She scooted free, blushing, whirled. Looked past him. They were alone. "Where–"
"My own manipulations, baby." He smiled. Pulled her into a lengthy kiss. "Say it, Moira. Say you want it."
She kissed him, hands running up his chest. "Oh John, oh John..."
"Say it, baby," he insisted. Squeezing her rear now.
"Oh John! I want you. Want you to fuck me exquisitely, slowly..."
He kissed her passionately, moving her onto the table. "Here? Or in the sex room?"
"Love nest? No. Our room. Bed. The bed," she tried to articulate but moaned as he ran his mouth down to her breasts. Fingers sliding into the shirt, the bra to cup, to clasp. To fondle the hardening nipple.
He kissed her again. "Fuck...I may not make it that far, Moy. So hard now." He pulled her shirt down, down, eyed the red satin bra. It had delicate violet flowers scattered over it. "Pretty."
She ran her hand down his pants. "Oh major, you are getting some serious ordnance there. So big, so hard...but can you deploy it successfully this time?" she teased.
"Let's go. Or I'll end up taking you on the floor." He grabbed her hand, pulled her upright. Off the table. Led her from the room.
"Wait!" Moira was adjusting her shirt, dislodged by his wayward fingers. His mouth. She leaned over, snatched the rose from the floor. Smiled. Eyed him lovingly. "Oh John," she sighed, gushing.
He smirked. "Yes, I will need that. All over, Moy, all over. Let's go!"
Moira laughed at his impatience. His awkward walk. She scooted ahead of him, tugging his hand. Swaying her hips as she led him to their room. She pulled him into the room, closed the door. "Well, major, you do seem to require quite an ordnance check!" She squealed the last word as he grabbed her. Pushed her gently against the door and kissed her. Shoving his body to hers. "John!" she laughed, pushing.
He laughed, thrusting against her. Erection all to obvious, poking at her. Demanding entrance. Release. "How do you want me, baby?" he asked gruffly.
She ran her mouth over his jaw, his throat. Tasting. Teasing. "Oh John...John...I want you. I want you so bad, so bad, sweetie...bed."
"Bed." He pulled her to it. Smiled. "Sweet and slow? Yes. Duration."
She smiled. "Yes. Duration. That is, if you can keep it up that long, major."
He grinned. "Give me an hour, baby, and I'll be a general. Hold on tight, Moy. Real, real tight."
John rolled onto his back, stretching contentedly. Pleasantly drained. Replete with sexual pleasure, passion. His arm slid round Moira as she rolled onto her side, snuggling against him. Half on him, head on his bare chest. He smiled smugly, happily. Stroked her bare arm, her wild hair spilling all around them. "So...satisfied?" he teased, voice still low, husky. Still catching his breath after the slow seductions. The teasing motions. Taking his time in the exquisite foreplay. He glanced to see the rose at the end of the bed. Recalled running it over her naked body. Teasing, arousing.
"Yes. Oh yes, John," she whispered happily. Dreamily. She smiled, snuggling. Pleasure still enfolding her head to toes. Made all the more intense by the prolonged foreplay. His hands caressing against the bra, the panties. Then his mouth. Teasing her nipples through the satin bra. Teasing her intimately through the satin panties until she wanted to rip them off herself. Intense, nearly excruciating arousal as he slowly, slowly seduced her. Brought her to passionate need.
"Good. That's what I was aiming for, baby." He recalled the kinky elements. Removing her bra, her panties with his teeth. Gently wrapping the bra around her wrists and pinning them up above her head. Kissing her mouth, tongue gliding, careful of the bruise. Nibbling her ear and biting gently to make her squeal, squirm. Making her arch as tasted each breast, sucking, pulling, nibbling. Down to her waist. Down to her thighs. Going down on her with such ruthless precision her voice escalated wildly into helpless, passionate sounds that got him off.
"Oh John...John...sweetie..." she purred softly, caressing his chest tiredly. Drained by the incredible sex. He had entered her slowly, slowly. So hard, so big. His mouth on hers, tongue in perfect time to his cock as he plied her both ways. Taking his time. Feeling every inch of her, every inch of him. So deep now, playing with her hair. She had sucked on his finger, biting as he nuzzled her earlobe, her throat. A steady, delicious momentum of sex building, building, sustaining his erection as she writhed under him. The bed rocking, the headboard slamming. He had untied her wrists before she had gotten hurt. Before they had really gotten going.
"Fuck," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. His hand slid down her back, debating whether or not to take her again. He smiled, recalling the rush to climax. Coming in her so hard, so fast. She had clenched him tightly, slick and hot but he had kept thrusting, thrusting. Not stopping as he was caught in the pleasurable momentum, the escalation. Their moans and cries entwining as surely as their bodies. As loudly as the rocking bed and the slamming headboard.
Moira slid on top of him, kissing his chest. Moving up to kiss his lips, to nibble, to tease. Her body rubbing along his, skin to skin. Sweaty and sticky and warm, so warm. Her softness to his hardness. She smiled, caressing his hair. "Oh John...John...can we spend the rest of the day here? In bed?" she asked. Lost herself in his brilliant green eyes, warm with love, with passion. A fierce protectiveness that allured her. Comforted her.
He smiled. Gently squeezed her rear. "Stay here the rest of the day? In bed? Fucking? I'd like nothing better, Moy. What about John junior? He might need a rest."
She kissed him. "No, he's fine. Probably used to all this exuberance by now, sweetie. Oh John..." she marveled.
"Wow," he commented, staring at her expression. Brown eyes full of love, passion. Infatuation and satisfaction. She shifted on him a little, legs spreading a little to accommodate his resting cock. "Baby..." He licked his lips. Ran his finger along her bruise, the cut. Brows furrowing for a moment in concern. "That good?"
She kissed him. Circled his ear. "Even better, sweetie," she teased. "John, will you marry me?"
He gently laughed. "Yes, Moira, I will. Repeatedly." He drew her mouth to his. Soft kisses, over and over until he rolled them. She was beneath him. "Again, sweetheart?"
"Hmm...maybe, colonel..."
"Colonel?" He raised a brow. "I should at least be a general, baby, after that. Hmm..this way? No. Sheppard's delight." He kissed her. Rolled off her and sat. Eyed the chair, the table.
Moira ran her hand up his bare back. "If you want, sweetie. We could always do it in the–"
"Colonel Sheppard, copy? Please respond," came a voice over the PA.
"Shit," John complained. "Do it in the what?" he asked, rolling onto his side. Leaning over to grab his earpiece. "Moy? Do it in the what?"
"Answer your page," she retorted, fingers running up and down his back.
"This is Sheppard," he said gruffly, adjusting the earpiece. "Report." Moira scooted closer. Kissed his shoulder. The back of his neck. He smiled as her fingers slid down, down to his rear. "Careful, baby," he warned. "Copy? Oh fuck..." he inadvertently muttered as her fingers wandered across his thigh. Between his legs. Tickling, arousing as she gently bit his shoulder.
"Sir? Colonel Sheppard, the updated status reports of the city has just come through. The revamped security codes and grids need your authorization."
John groaned. "Huh...oh...okay...yeah, just a sec." He switched off the earpiece. "Moira! What the fuck are you oh fuck, fuck...." He rolled onto his back as she slid down his body. Nails running up and down his stiffening cock as she nibbled along his pelvis.
She met his gaze, smiled slyly. "Do you want me to stop, sweetie? Seems a shame to waste this fine, fine ordnance." She licked her lips slowly. "I still have the caramel."
"Oh fuck, no, don't stop...don't..." He held up his hand. Tapped the earpiece. "Sorry about that, Chuck. I had a, um, a technical glitch." He gave her a look as she snorted laughter. "I'll be there in...let's see..."
"Twenty," she whispered, giggled against his hip. "Maybe thirty if there's a glitch."
He grinned. "Make it thirty. Sheppard out!" He tapped the earpiece. Removed it and tossed it onto the table. "Fuck! All right, baby, proceed. Double time!"
"Double?" she asked, pretending to be shocked. She slid from the bed. "In that case, colonel, I had better get extra caramel. And those manacles. Oh! Didn't you want Sheppard's delight, sweetie?" She moved to the table. Cleared it. Turned to face him. Hoisted herself onto it and laid back, sprawling wantonly. Invitingly. "Oh John...let's skip to part two, okay?"
John was staring. He practically fell as he leapt from the bed to join her.
Moira caught her breath. Shoved her wild hair aside as she watched John crossed the room. Grabbed his shorts and pulled them on quickly. "Damn, John..."
He laughed. "Fuck yes, baby. Fast and furious, huh? Still satisfied, Moy?"
"Yes, thank you! You proved yourself, so stand down!" Flustered she moved to the bed. Grabbed her bra and put it on, then her shirt.
"I want to be certain, baby. Moira, you are okay, right? I mean, that was a little rough. John junior?" he asked, glancing past her to view the table. The empty table. Everything had been knocked off it by their energetic, passionate coupling. Flowers were strewn along the floor. A few vases overturned. One chair on its side. A laptop under the table, cursor blinking accusingly.
"Get dressed. I've got to check those protocols and you are coming with me."
"We're fine, John. We can take it."
"Ah, baby..." he groaned as she leaned over to grab her panties off the floor. "Fuck...that pert little ass."
"You already did," she quipped, causing him to laugh. "Shit!" She made a face, fingering the panties. "Ick! They are soaking wet! From me and from you."
"Perfect. I'll take those, please." He held out his hand. Waited.
She met his gaze. "Oh, hilarious, John. No." She moved to the dresser. Secured another pair which she put on, wiggling her rear at him. She turned. He hadn't moved. Still clad only in his red boxers. Waiting. Open hand held out. She laughed. "John, no!" His expression didn't change. She sighed. "Really?"
"Yes, really. My trophy. Now," he ordered sternly. Amusement shining in his eyes. "Unless you want me to make those a new trophy."
"No!" She shook her head. "Here!" She shoved them into his hand. "Pervert."
He laughed. Fingers crushing the fabric. Rubbing. "Ah...wonderful. Deliciously wet and still heavy with that heady sex smell...yum." He laughed at her disgusted expression, her eye roll. He pulled on his jeans, his shirt. Shoved the panties into his pocket. "I suppose you want them back...eventually."
"Yes, colonel, if you don't mind. Oh ick!" she complained to his salacious expression. She pulled on her pants, shoes. Combed her hair as he carelessly ran his fingers through his. She gathered her hair into an efficient ponytail.
"Moy, is that new pair wet yet?"
"Shut up, John!"
He laughed. Moved to her after putting on his socks, his boots. He caught her. Kissed her. "Ah, baby, I wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with you."
"Me too, sweetie, but duty calls."
"I need a beer. You know," he teased, brows raised, "after a particularly satisfying–"
"Fudge?" she interjected. "Yes. Me too. Don't start that again. John, you're not giddy, are you?"
"Hilarious, Moira. Let's go."
"Why do I need to go? They are your protocols, your codes, your–"
"Desire is to have you with me, so let's go! Move that pert little ass, baby!"