Genetic Drift8
Moira's fingers sped over the keyboard. Reversed. Corrected all the typos. Sped up again. Reversed. Corrected. With a sigh she shoved the data screen away from her. She rubbed her eyes, shifted in the chair again. She couldn't concentrate. The afternoon's intense intimacies were constantly in her mind. Baffling her, pleasing her, arousing her. She closed the laptop. Drummed her fingers on it. Trying to resist the urge to return. Trying to fight her body's urges. Reasoned that John had probably left her room by now, had gone back to work.
She smiled, stood. Returned to the cafeteria. She grabbed a beer and headed for her room, debating where he may have gone, what he could be doing. She froze, nearly dropped the bottle as she resumed her steps quietly. The two men were wordlessly staring at each other. "Evan? John?" Heart racing she neared, looked from one to the other. "What's, what's going on?"
John briefly glanced at her. "Is that for me?"
She suddenly remembered the bottle she was holding. "What? Oh...this? Yes. I thought..." Her words trailed into silence. She flushed, seeing what John was holding in his hand. What his unclenching fingers were clearly, so clearly revealing to Evan. Exactly what it was he was gripping possessively. Fingers stroking the violet silk, the lacy edge. Revealing the garment's identity. And their condition.
"Thank you, Moira. I am quite, quite thirsty," John stated, holding out his free hand. Eyes still locked with Evan's in some unspoken dialogue.
Moira handed it to him, stepping closer. Afraid to speak, appalled and fascinated all at once by the wordless conversation ensuing between the two men. "I...I just had dinner. Are you hungry?" She found it odd to be speaking such ordinary words. As if nothing was happening.
"No." John opened the bottle, took a deep drink. Licked his lips. "Are you sure you don't want a sip, Moira?"
"No. I don't like the, the taste," she faltered, looking from one to the other again. "Evan? Evan, did you want to see me?"
"Yes," Evan replied, not looking at her, "but it can wait until morning."
"Okay, then..." She paused, uncertain.
John took another long drink, swallowed. Licked his lips. "Are you coming, Moira?"
"I..." She hesitated, uncertain still. Captivated by the sensual undertone, his voice just hinting at lower tones. Desires. The deep pull on the bottle. The swallow. The slow movement of his tongue over his lips riveting, evocative. "Okay," she managed to say calmly. Just a trace of breathlessness in her tone. She stepped past Evan, past John who stepped aside for her to enter the room. Her room. She turned back quickly to watch the two men, embarrassed, angered.
"Good night," John said amiably. Closed the door. He drank another long swallow of the beer, enjoying the taste, the quenching of his thirst.
Moira waited, seeing the tension in his body, his back, his shoulders ease. Relax. He turned to her, an almost lazy motion. She grabbed the panties from his fingers, coloring at their wetness."John! What the hell was that? What were you doing? With these?" She shook the garment at him like a flag. "With that?" She pointed at the scratches, more visible with his sleeve shoved higher, revealing the biceps. "What just happened?" she demanded.
John took another drink, his gaze taking in her loose, billowing hair. Her violet shirt and gray jeans only slightly rumpled. Her flushed face, rosy lips, wide, now angry brown eyes. "Are you sure you don't want the rest?" He offered the bottle. "You were quite inviting when you were drunk, Moira," he teased with a slow smile.
She batted the bottle away from her. "John! What just happened?"
"I think you know, Moira." He sauntered to the bed, sat. Kicked off his shoes. Drank the beer. "It's handled."
"What? This was your way of handling it?" she demanded, hands on hips. She stood in front of him. "Geez, John, why didn't you just pull it out and mark your territory while you were at it!"
she fumed.
"Hmm...I should have thought of that," he agreed amiably, drinking the beer.
"Damn it!" She took the bottle from him, set it aside. "I'm serious, John! What the hell was that? What, it wasn't enough to tell him I was in your bed this morning? You had to flaunt it? You had to practically wave my underwear at him right after we did it to prove your words?"
"Yes," he answered simply. He leaned over to reach for the beer on the table.
"No!" She slapped his hand away from the bottle. "What do you mean, yes? What the hell is wrong with you?"
"You are so fucking sexy when you're angry, did you know that, Moira? I can just imagine you riding me very hard now," he teased.
"John Sheppard!" She moved to the door. Opened it. "Get out!"
"No." His voice was quiet. Mild.
She turned. He had reclined back on the bed. Scooted up to adjust the pillows under his head. "I think your bed is more comfortable than mine," he observed, as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if Moira wasn't angry at all with him. "I know for a fact it is bigger. I've been meaning to ask you how you scored this bed in the first place."
His calm, ordinary, almost bored demeanor was infuriating. She stomped over to him. Hit his leg. "Will you get out of here?"
"No, Moira. I'm almost certain the mattress is better than mine, and larger," he observed, shifting lazily. He pulled off his belt, dropped it to the floor. "What I want to know is how you got this nice, comfy bed, while the military commander of Atlantis, that being me, got a lousy, uncomfortable narrow little cot that is actually worse than the ones I had in Antarctica." He sat up suddenly.
"Good! You can go back to your own fucking room," she fumed, ignoring his commentary on their beds. She moved to the open doorway. Gestured. "I don't understand this inexplicable, masculine behavior, nor do I want to! You've probably made things ten times worse now and I don't know what the hell to do. So get out!"
"Would you mind closing the door, Moira?"
She turned, stared. John had removed his shirt, flung it to the floor. He was in the act of removing his pants. She closed the door, watching as he stripped down to his boxers, pulled off his socks, balancing on one foot, then the other. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, but her anger became strangled desire as she stared. The graying light played over his lean torso, taut muscles. Strong arms, long legs. The glint of a silver chain, of silver dog tags against his dark chest hair.
He smiled. "What does it look like I'm doing, doctor?" He slipped under the blankets, settled comfortably. Lazily waved his hand at the switch to douse the room into darkness. Only the faint glow of the city lights dimmed by the storm wavered on the air. "I am going to find out what kind of mattress this is and get mine replaced." He wiggled under the blankets, tossed the boxers onto the floor after removing them.
She sighed, anger and amusement colliding. She stepped to the bed. Stared down at him. "John?"
"Aren't you coming to bed, Moira? I think we could both use some sleep...afterwards." He winked. "Didn't you promise to ride me? Ride me hard, baby?"
She stared, but couldn't fight the smile forming. She shook her head. "Men," she grumbled. "No. Not until you tell me what just happened. In the hallway," she clarified, trying not to be captivated by the mischief in his sparkling green eyes.
"Oh. That."
"Yes, that."
"Come to bed and I'll tell you. While you undress. Slowly."
She sighed again. Unbuttoned her shirt. "Fine. Explain, colonel."
"I told you," he said, settling to watch, "I handled it. Tomorrow everything will be fine. You'll see."
She removed her shirt, dropped it to the floor. Unzipped her jeans. "Really? And how did you accomplish that?" She removed the jeans. Sat to pull off her shoes. Hesitated.
"Socks too," he instructed. "It's a guy thing."
"A what?" She pulled off one sock, debated, pulled off the other. Glanced at her scarred foot. She slipped off her panties, hips swaying. Unhooked her bra, reaching back. "Well?"
"What? I was distracted...that pert little...anyway, oh, yeah, a guy thing. He knows."
"Knows? Knows what? That we're lovers? He already knew that." She removed the bra, moved to slip under the blankets next to him.
"Not so fast! Let me enjoy the view," he complained, gaze roving. "Yes, but it's one thing to know. Another to see. Absolute proof."
"You don't make any sense," she grumbled, but he pulled her on top of him, kissing her, pressing her body to his.
"I told you, it's a guy thing. Now, are you going to ride me, ride me hard, Moira? Like you promised?"
She laughed, squirming against him. "John! I never promised–"
He kissed her lengthily, hands roving, guiding her intimately to him. Parting. Lifting. "Ride me, Moira. Ride me hard," he repeated intently.
She showered him with kisses, moving to accommodate him. Hands sliding. Legs parting. She sat up, rocking, taking him in with a pleasant moan. "I'll try not to scratch you this time," she teased, starting the pleasurable motions.
He smiled. "Scratch away, baby, as long as you can bring us both," he teased.
***********************************************************************
Moira woke early. She freed herself from John's embrace, reluctant to leave him. She eyed him. He was fast asleep, on his side, limbs flung in every direction as he shifted. She smiled, quickly showered, dressed. Kissed him gently on the lips and left.
"Moira, are you coming to the lab today?"
Moira looked up from her nearly finished breakfast as Matthew Parrish joined her. She smiled. "Yes. Have you discovered something?"
"Yes! About the moss. I'll show you when you get down there. It's quite amazing!"
"Good. I'm going now," she assured, finishing her juice.
She moved down the hallway, headed for a transporter. Turned as the closing doors opened. Evan stepped inside, shut the doors. "You–"
"Moira, I'd like to talk to you. Privately. Not like before," he stated seriously.
"Okay. I was just on my way to the lab."
"Not private enough." He pressed buttons. Instead of going down the transporter went up, up. They emerged onto an upper level. Evan led her out onto a balcony. The sea glinted for miles and miles. Sparkling vivid blue in the sunlight. Both were silent, standing at the railing. Enjoying the view.
"Isn't that the mainland over there?" she asked, pointing to a distant smudge on the horizon.
"Yes. I think so." A pause. "Moira. I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your–" she objected.
"No, please, let me finish. I am sorry! This thing...whatever it is, will pass. I don't want to lose your friendship either. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me. I don't want you off my team. I think we work well together. As a team. I wish I could take back what I did, what I said, but I can't. But I can promise you it will never happen again."
She stared at the ocean, relieved. Embarrassed. "I don't want to lose your friendship either, Evan. And I don't want to be on another team. No one else would put up with me."
"That's true," he said, in complete seriousness.
"Evan!" She met his gaze. He smirked. She smiled. "I've missed our, our friendship."
"So have I. I'm sorry. Will you give me another chance?"
"Of course! I know it was difficult for you..." She eyed the ocean again. Recalled his odd, silent confrontation with John. John who was asleep in her room now. In her bed. The silent conversation while he held her sodden panties in his hand. She colored.
"Yes, but I don't want to hurt you, Moira." He touched her hand on the railing. "As long as you can forgive me I'll be fine."
She met his gaze. "Of, of course, Evan!"
He smiled. "Thank you. By the way, I did take your advice. Seeing as it was doctor's orders and all," he informed.
"My...what? Oh! The cold shower?"
"Yes...and a date. That did seem to help, after all."
"Oh! You mean you...oh!" She shook her head at his smile. "Men! What is with men and their blatant boasting of their, their–"
"Sexual conquests? You tell me, doctor. You're the biologist."
"Paleozoologist, actually, major." He laughed. She laughed. "Spare me the details, please!"
"Okay...as long as you spare me any details," he rejoined.
"Evan Lorne!" she scolded, but he laughed.
"I guess we'd better get to work. Let's go." He led her back to the transporter. "I don't think we'll be going off-world for a few weeks."
"Won't you get bored?"she asked, following him.
"I'll find something to do. Maybe that intern again, for one. Ow!"
She hit his arm. "Men! You're all the same!"
Evan laughed. "You asked, O'Meara. Seriously, maybe we could visit the mainland. Get out of the city, you know. There could be some interesting animals there. It hasn't really been explored, has it?"
"No...that's a good idea!"she agreed as they emerged onto a more familiar corridor. "I would like that. How about next week?"
"Yeah, okay. See you later." He turned, grinned at her. "Hey, Moira, as long as you can keep the colonel happy we'll all be happy. Got it?"
"Shut up, Evan," she scolded, but they laughed. Relieved at his return to his normal self she headed down the hallway. She wondered at his abrupt change. She stopped, seeing John heading in her direction, clad in fresh clothes. She met him as people passed, ignoring them. She smiled. "You were right."
He took a minute to realize what she meant. Smiled. "Told you I did."
She laughed. "All right, Yoda, there's no need to gloat,"she reprimanded.
"Alpha," he reminded.
She rolled her eyes. "I knew that was going to haunt me."
"You brought it up, Moira," he reminded her again.
She smiled. "Oh...that's right..." She glanced at his crotch, the gray pants. "I did bring it up...several times, as I recall." She met his gaze. "I'll have to be more careful next time."
"Not too careful," he countered. "Let me buy you a beer and we can discuss it."
"No, thanks. I don't want to repeat that."
"Really? Any of it?" he teased. "Huh...you did like repeating things...several times."
She laughed as he did, but countered, "I thought you didn't like re-runs, colonel."
"Depends. On what's playing. Or who," he teased boldly. "Or where." His gaze traveled along her body. Back to her eyes. "Always remember, Moira."
"Remember what, John?"
He grinned. "Always carry a spare."
"A spare? A..." She didn't complete her sentence as he thrust a wad of material in her hand. She looked down, recognized a pair of her panties. She stuffed them into her pocket, blushed as people passed, oblivious. Met his bemused gaze as he laughed. "John Sheppard, you son of a–"
"Do you need them now, Moira O'Meara? Or later?" he persisted. "I think now, hmm?"
"Moira! Are you coming?" a British voice hailed, interrupting their flirtation.
"Yes, Moira, are you coming?" John repeated, his tone low and so intimate it seemed to vibrate along her body. His meaning very clear.
"I'll be there in a minute!" Moira snapped, glaring at him.
"All right, all right, don't get your knickers in a twist!" the scientist replied.
John burst out laughing. Moira colored, amused and annoyed. John couldn't stop laughing, even as she shoved past him, hitting his shoulder in rebuttal. He stared after her.
Moira stopped at the corridor's end, turned. "Oh, John," she called sweetly, "you were right again. Thanks for the spare. Don't get too cocky, colonel." She laughed as he did, turned and headed for the lab at last.
John wiped his eyes, contained his merriment as he headed for the conference room. It was an effort not to laugh, not to grin, not to go after her. He hadn't enjoyed such verbal sparring with a woman in a while. And the rest was even better.
"Ah, finally! Where have you been?" Rodney asked, impatient.
"I was detained. Delayed," John explained vaguely. He took a seat. Drummed his fingers on the table. "Well?"
Rodney was staring at him. "Why are you so happy?"
"Can't I be happy?" John quipped, trying to downplay his merriment.
"Well, yes, but you are...you are excessively happy," Rodney accused. Pointed.
"I'm not!" John argued. "I'm just enjoying my time off, Rodney," he explained. His foot tapped the floor in concert to his fingers on the table. "Are we going to start?"
"Of course, John," Elizabeth opened her data pad, after staring at him for a moment. "Rodney, you were talking about the city's power grids," she prompted.
"Yes, I was," Rodney agreed, shot a look at John who was dutifully opening his own data screen to see the city plans, "so let me start again. The city's greatest usage is in the main areas highlighted on your screens, but we need additional power here. And here. The areas in red. The labs are woefully neglected. I think we can re-route a ZPM to those areas without hindering any other crucial operating systems. In green on your screens are the schematics for the procedure."
John watched the charts, the colors on the scans. Heard Rodney's stream of scientific words. His mind drifted again to Moira. Their flirtation in the hallway. The double entendre wordplay. The teasing admissions at the end, making him wonder if she was aroused. As aroused as he was becoming. He shifted on the chair, trying to keep his physical reactions to a minimum. Could only imagine Moira's amusement. Could imagine the teasing words she would use. Could imagine the teasing things her lips could do. He absently rubbed the scratches on his arm.
"John? Are you all right?"
He broke from his thoughts, met Elizabeth's quizzical, amused gaze. Glanced at Rodney's irritated one. "What? Oh, yeah. It's nothing." He dropped his hand down after pulling his sleeve over most of the scratches. As Rodney continued John regretted being reminded of the scratches. Reminded of how he had gotten them. The provocative words Moira had used, as he had requested. The quick consummation, the release. The repetition of his name as she came wildly, vividly, causing the scratches. He shifted again, his body all too eager to relive the memory, to repeat it. He wished he'd gone after her in the hallway.
"John? What is up with–"
"What, Rodney? What is it now?" John snapped, irritated. Embarrassed.
"Actually it was Elizabeth who spoke," Rodney informed with a smile. Enjoying seeing his friend so oddly out-of-sorts for a change.
"Shit. Sorry, sorry, Elizabeth," John apologized. Shrugged. "Guess I've got other things on my mind today."
"So I noticed," she remarked, amused. "Do you even know what we were discussing?"
"Of course." It took him a minute to retrieve it. "The power systems. By-passing a ZPM router to power more of the labs on deck C. But we can't afford to compromise any of the defensive grids." He smiled as Rodney grudgingly acquiesced.
"Very good. All right, let's talk about deck C. And those defensive grids," Elizabeth suggested. "That should keep you focused, John...at least for a little while."
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Moira sat on a stool in the botany lab, peering into a microscope. Increased magnification revealed greenish cells. "I'm no botanist so what am I seeing again?"
"The moss," Matthew helpfully supplied. "Bisected at a molecular level. I can't quite separate the enzyme cells from those others, but when I can those will be safe to use an analgesic."
"Really?" Moira peered again. "The ones dyed red?"
"Yes. They have the same painkilling properties as ibuprofen but it's not. I think in small doses it could prove quite beneficial. Doctor Beckett agrees. Problem is the negative effects outweigh the positive."
"Hmm. There could be other plants like this, couldn't there? I mean, lacking the enzyme but beneficial otherwise?"
"Yes. This is a species native to the Pegasus galaxy. There is no known Earth equivalent as far as I know."
She frowned. "I don't like saying this, Matthew, but I think we may need to go back to MIM436 where it all began." She paused, thoughts flitting to John but she pushed them aside. "The plant life there is astonishing! It's not prehistoric, but it is a veritable garden of botanical discovery. There must be more here than a causal linkage between pleasure and pain. We need more–"
"As do I, Doctor O'Meara. I need to see you," John stated, gaze taking in her brown hair spilling loose halfway down her back. Her shapely rear perched on the edge of the stool as she leaned over the microscope. The khaki pants hugging her curves. The green shirt lifting to give a tiny glimpse of bare skin. "I have a biological necessity."
At the sound of his voice she smiled. Smirked at the slight strain in his voice. Straightened and turned on the stool to see him lounging in the doorway. His black t-shirt form fitting, his olive green pants the same. Her gaze moved down his body, up again, as if assessing. Feigned annoyance she replied, "A biological necessity, Colonel Sheppard? Are you sure it's not just a medical one?"
"Positive."
"How much time do you need?" she asked, sounding bored.
He tried not to smirk. "Five, no, ten minutes." He considered. "Make it fifteen."
"Fifteen?"she asked, surprised. Frowned. "Really, colonel? Are you certain?"
"Yes, doctor. Prep's been done. All we have to do is debrief. Debrief for five, consummate for ten."
Moira couldn't keep the smile from her face. "Is this an absolute necessity, colonel? I am very busy here with this botanical–"
"Absolutely," he insisted, shifting his stance. "At least fifteen, doctor." His expression was serious.
"You had better go, Moira," Matthew advised. "I don't think Colonel Sheppard would pull you out of here for nothing."
"No...he certainly doesn't pull out for just any reason," she agreed, enjoying his quick smile, his body's increasingly obvious discomfort. "Very well, colonel. I'm coming."
"Yes, doctor, you will come," he agreed.
Moira moved to him, pushed him playfully out of the doorway. Laughed softly as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She quickened her pace to match his. She pulled her hand free as they entered the transporter. "John? Your room or mine? What's the rush? Oh...I see..." She laughed.
He smiled, scowled at her as they stepped and into another hallway. "Hilarious, Moira. Yours. You have the better bed."
She followed him, then darted ahead to open the door. She whirled as he followed on her heels, stopped only to close the door. "Seriously, John, we were in an important–"
"So was I but some things just cannot wait, Moira. I knew you wouldn't refuse me. Can you really resist a gorgeous guy like me?" he asked, smiling, opening his arms.
She laughed, shook her head. "Do you remember everything I said when I was drunk?"
"Everything," he agreed, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her passionately, hands running down to grab her rear. To press her body against his.
Moira broke the passionate, probing kiss. "John?" Her eyes widened, feeling him already rock hard, eager. "Are you on the enzyme?"
He laughed. "No. I told you, I remember everything you say. It's that mouth of yours, Moira. The things you say with those rosy lips, when my tongue isn't inside it, that is."
"You started it, remember? You–" She gasped as he kissed her again. His hand slid round, up her thigh, between her thighs to grasp, to grope. To search.
"Ah..as ready as I am...well, nearly so," he remarked.
"John? You–"
He kissed her again, interrupting whatever she was going to say. Pulled her towards the bed. "What? Can't keep up with me, O'Meara?" he taunted. "Most women have that problem."
She smiled, pushed him backwards. He fell onto the bed. "Lucky for you I'm not most women, Sheppard. I can keep it up, don't you worry." She stretched on top of him, kissing him. She ran her mouth down his throat, down the scratches on his arm, squirming against him.
He groaned. "Sorry, Moira." He rolled them over suddenly. Undid her pants, yanked down pants and panties in one swift, practiced motion. Drew them off her. "No time for foreplay."
"You–" she protested, but he pushed her legs apart and unzipped, freed himself . Abruptly entered, thrusting into her with faster, faster movements. Moira held onto the bed, as the pleasure spiraled, spiraled, spilled in delicious anticipation. Then receded as John groaned, tensed. Shuddered with another deep thrust. He let out a long, satisfied sigh and fell upon her, still moving, slowing. Stopping.
"Ah...Moira...you have eased the burden of command," he teased happily. Kissed her throat. "What do you think?"
"Do you want a critique after that? Let me tell you, John, it's not going to be a very good performance review," she scolded.
He laughed. "No, I mean about the bed. How yours is more comf...hey! What do you mean by that?"
She laughed at his sudden consternation. "Seriously? Typical. That was it? Thanks, flyboy. Couldn't you have done that by yourself?" she griped, shifting under him.
He laughed tiredly. "It's much better this way. Much."
"I didn't need to be here at all," she continued, pushing halfheartedly at him. "While you flew to the stars I was still stranded at the terminal."
John tried not to laugh. "Sorry, Moira. I'm a much better pilot than that. Give me five...um, better make it ten minutes." He rolled off her. His hand slid up her bare thigh. "Meanwhile I can prep the engines and lubricate that sweet–"
She batted his hand away, rolled onto her side towards him. Pulled her shirt down. Sighed. "Too late, colonel. You already went full throttle." He laughed. "I expected better, colonel, but I guess you reached your optimum performance level last night." She kissed down his throat. Ran her hand under his shirt, up his chest. Then down his waist. Up and down. Up and down, each time moving tantalizingly closer to his unzipped, opened pants and opened boxers. But drawing back before she reached him.
"Ah, Moira," he sighed happily, enjoying the fell of her fingers, her nails against his skin.
"Where is your vaunted military precision, colonel? Where is your military thrust?" She pressed against his side, one leg draping over his. Her fingers continued their erotic dance as she kissed his lips, his throat. Wandered up to circle his ear. He groaned in sudden arousal, enjoyment. "Where's your military penetration? What's your twenty, colonel? Can you even take point on this target or have you depleted your arsenal?" She kissed down his throat.
Her mouth captured his as he groaned, enjoying every minute of her seductions, her teasing.. Her taunts.. Her mouth moved to his waist where her tongue ran down to the waistband of his shorts. "That's not a very good salute, soldier. You will have to be demoted back to captain with this poor performance record." Her mouth wandered along his hip as her hand caressed him, caught hold suddenly.
"Oh Moira, please," he said, straining, becoming hard rapidly. Body tensing in renewed arousal. She freed him. Slid back up to kiss his lips. To savor the taste of his mouth, the perfect fullness of his lips. "I'm sorry, colonel, but you've been demoted for not fulfilling your orders."
John caught her, rolled them over, captured her mouth with his. Tongue gliding easily into her now. Teasing. "I will follow your orders to the letter, doctor." He kissed her. "God I love that mouth of yours, sweetheart. You can make a man come just by talking."
"I wasn't–"
He kissed her, entered her slowly. "Don't worry, doctor. I will boost my performance ratio and earn back my rank. I know all about military strategy. Thrust. Penetration." He moved expertly, making her squirm, murmur, lose her breath. "Prepare to take flight, Moira," he promised, building a friction, a rhythm between them.
***********************************************************************
John caught his breath, rolled off her lazily, happily. "Better?" he inquired.
"The bed?" she asked breathlessly.
He laughed. "No. But yes. I think I earned back my rank." A pause. "Didn't I?"
She laughed tiredly. "Yes. You did, colonel. With bells on."
"Colonel? I should be a general after that, doctor. Bells or not." They laughed. "In fact I should be a four-star general, given your exclamations. Moira, you really...oh damn! I think I've left my earpiece on...to citywide," he joked.
"Hilarious, John," she scolded, hit his arm. She sat, pulled down her shirt. Scooted to the edge of the bed. She reached back to hook her bra. Grabbed her pants. "Where is my underwear? What is it with you and my..." She spotted her panties across the room. As he laughed she pulled out the pair from her pocket, slid into them.
"See? Always carry a spare, Moira." He laughed again as she reached back to smack his leg. He reassembled himself, his clothes. Zipped his pants.
"Hilarious, John." She pulled on her pants, back still to him. "You need to be more discreet."
"Discreet? I am the soul of discretion, Moira," he countered. "Doctor Parrish didn't have a clue what we were talking about, now did he?" He moved his foot against her lower back, her rear. "I admit I was a little distracted...all right, I couldn't stop thinking of this morning. Or last night. It's your mouth, Moira...the things you say to me."
She scooted back to him, nestled next to him. His arm slid round her, drew her closer. "So you're going to blame all of this on my mouth?"
"Yes." He laughed as she playfully hit his thigh. "Hey, watch the merchandise, sweetheart. From now on I think you should go commando. At least when we are in the city."
"Ha ha. Maybe I should. It would certainly save me time. And underwear."
He laughed, stroked her back. "Ah, Moira. You are wearing me out...but in a good way."
"Me? It's you, John! You can't seem to get enough of, of, of..." she spluttered, embarrassed.
"Sex?" he helpfully supplied. "Yes. Of you," he agreed. "It's that luscious, naughty mouth of yours, Moira."
"You're one to talk, John." She kissed him, stroked his chest, the black t-shirt warm under her fingers.
"So...what was it about M1M436?" he asked, relaxing on the bed, next to her.
"Wow, you do remember everything," she said, impressed.
"Everything that comes out of that brazen little mouth of yours, yes. Ow!"
She hit his arm. "M1M436?" she prompted.
"Wow, Moira, can't you remember anything?" he teased, closing his eyes.
"Not after you do those wonderful things to me, no." She sobered. "We need to go back there. Specifically Doctor Parrish, a group of botanists, and myself, although I am no botanist but still I have some experience with those plants and the planet itself, to gather more–"
"No." His answer was mild, almost disinterested.
"No? Here we go again," she sighed. Sat free of his arm. "John, will you at least listen? We need more specimens! More examples of the abundant plant life!"
"No," he repeated evenly. Stretched languidly on the bed, flexing legs, arms.
"Why are you like this? You can be so stubborn sometimes, so frustrating, so obstinate when it comes to any scientific evaluation of a–"
"Just don't call me a nerfherder," he cautioned.
She stared, laughed. "Okay, laser brain."
He laughed. "Your worshipfulness."
"Seriously, John we need to go–"
"No." He opened his eyes, met her irritated gaze. "And you're not getting around me this time, Moira. No charming Lorne to disobey orders. No running to Weir about some blah blah science discovery stuff. You will keep your pert little ass right here until I order otherwise."
She smirked as he closed his eyes. She nestled against him, ran soft kisses along his jaw. "Strawberries, John."
"Hilarious, Moira. No."
She kissed him again, pressing her body close, resting her head on his chest. "Strawberries," she repeated slowly.
"Won't work. You've spent all my energy. For now. Not even fifteen will–"
"What about my mouth, sweetie?" she whispered in his ear. Circled it with kisses to make him groan softly. Her hands running along his body. "My mouth." She kissed his throat. Tongue flicking along his skin. "My tongue." She ran her lips over his scratched arm. "My lips tasting like ripe, red, juicy strawberries. Bursting with juice, sweet, ripe juice to lick and to savor."
"Fuck," John muttered, not unpleasantly. Opened his eyes and rolled to face her, kissed her. Drew her body against his. He put his hand over her mouth. "Ssh! I can do the same to you, Moira. With my mouth. With my hands. Oh yes, with my hand, hmm? With my tongue?" She moved his hand away, grabbed the other as he caressed between her legs.
"John...we need to go back–"
He kissed her again, stopping her words. "Ssh! We can discuss this later, all right? Not now. I need a nap. So do you. No post-coital talking, that is the new rule. Got it, baby?"
She smiled, relented. "As ordered, colonel."
"Good. Then I intend to savor every last drop of that strawberry."