FIC: "How to Seduce an Expedition Leader in Ten Easy Steps," Elizabeth/Everyone, NC17
Title: How to Seduce an Expedition Leader in Ten Easy Steps
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir/Teyla Emmagan, Elizabeth Weir/Rodney McKay, Elizabeth Weir/Ronon Dex, Elizabeth Weir/Evan Lorne/John Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir/Chuck, Elizabeth Weir/Samantha Carter, Elizabeth Weir/Jack O'Neill, Elizabeth Weir/Laura Cadman
Word Count: 6,039
Category: PWP, Romance
Spoilers: Threads, Heroes, Lost City, New Order, The Return,
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Consensual rough sex fantasy is mentioned in the Ronon section. Of course, he's fantasizing that it would be consensual, so YMMV.
Author's Notes: Written for pirateveronica's request in the Fall Free-For-All!
Summary: A beautiful, powerful woman is very hard to resist no matter who you are.
John
He was protective of her when they first met. She was a civilian, obviously in over head. That's not a comment on her ability. They were all over their heads during those first insane days exploring the city. John took it as his unspoken duty to make sure the rest of the military didn't run roughshod over her. Eventually he realized that she was as much a bureaucrat as a leader. She sometimes failed to understand his methods. She insisted that he spell out every single idea he had before she agreed to it. The adage 'it's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission' became his number one weapon.
Their relationship settled into a nice valley. She was no longer under his wing - she could protect herself as it turned out - and they often found themselves at odds on how to proceed during a crisis. But throughout all the head-butting and sniping at each other across the briefing room table, one thing never changed. He trusted her. He would bitch and moan about some of her decisions, but he trusted her decisions in the end. And he would be the first one coming to her defense if anyone tried to fight her.
Sometimes he lay in bed and thought about her as a woman. He stripped away the idea that she was basically his commanding officer. She was a civilian, but it was still crystal clear who was in charge of Atlantis. That aside, she was a very beautiful woman. The nervous smile, the freckles across the bridge of her nose... the way her eyes would sparkle when she couldn't allow herself to laugh. It was almost like she held the laughter inside of her and turned it into a light show. Sometimes he made jokes just to see that sparkle.
He imagined running into her on Earth. Both of them on leave, in civilian clothes, it would be easy to forget who they were "on the job." He would offer to buy her dinner and take her out on the town. She was definitely the sort of woman he would date under other circumstances. He would have to show her, first, that he wasn't just a soldier. It would be easy for him to look past her title and see her as just a woman. He had to make sure she could do the same. He needed to be seen as something more than someone in her expedition.
If they were on Earth, it would be a lot easier. No offices, no intercoms to call them away. They would be on neutral ground. She would just be Elizabeth and he'd be John. He would show her that he could be a gentleman. It wasn't something he liked to advertise, but he could be damned romantic when the moment called for it. A flower tucked behind her ear, a walk across a bridge at night. Staring into the water and making some comment about the reflection of the moon. And her eyes. He would definitely have to make a comment about her eyes.
She would look at him. There would be one of Those Moments when everything else in the world seemed to stop. And then he would lean in, just a little, and let her close the distance. It would have to be her decision. He would have to hold back to let her know she was still in charge of whatever happened next.
And that was how he would leave it. No more plans on his part. He would lead the way up to the kiss and then it would all be Elizabeth's choice. But in fantasy, he could imagine what she would say.
"That was nice... but it shouldn't happen again."
Or... he pushed his pajamas down just enough to grip his cock, which had grown erect during his ruminations.
"I'm staying at the base. Do you know anyplace less... public?"
He smiled as he thought about hearing her say those words. They would get a hotel room, or go back to the place he'd sublet ever since the Ancients kicked them out a few months back. He would undress her in the living room, lay her down on the couch and kiss his way down her body. And only when she was begging for it would he settle between her legs. He doubted he would last long. Even in fantasy the idea was almost too much for him to hold off. He closed his eyes and imagined seeing Elizabeth under him, eyes wide, shocked at what they were doing but whispering for him not to stop.
He grunted and came, staining the sheets with a muttered curse. As he cleaned himself up, he thought back over the fantasy. Being on Earth was key; they would never take the risk while on Atlantis. But the next time they were on Earth, out of the costumes and masks they wore here on Atlantis? Well, a dinner could be innocent, couldn't it?
Teyla
There's an innocence to her. To all of them, really. I once made the suggestion to Colonel Sheppard that he and Ronon could share body heat on a particularly cold night, and neither man would look the other in the eye for the rest of the night. McKay had become particularly withdrawn after I made the suggestion, growing even more so when I offered my own body heat to them if necessary. It was common practice with the Athosians, who often found themselves cut off from the gate, to camp this way.
When I first arrived in Atlantis, Elizabeth came to me in private to assure me she wouldn't attempt to usurp my role as leader of my people. It was an unnecessary gesture, but one I appreciated nonetheless. We sealed our status as dual leaders by clasping hands and resting our foreheads together. When we parted, I brushed my lips against hers as a gesture of our new intimacy.
She withdrew, touching two fingers to her lips as she said my name. I apologized as she explained that she wasn't rejecting me. She was simply saying no to the situation. It wasn't that she wouldn't, but that she couldn't under the circumstances. I understood her reluctance and I swore to her that I would restrain from similar gestures in the future. She smiled, albeit nervously, and told me it was a nice kiss. I could tell that she wanted to do it again. I waited, but instead she bid me a good night and left my quarters.
I imagine one day I will find her waiting outside of my quarters with a bottle of wine from Earth. I've found that their liqueurs taste different from those fermented on Athos, and I have grown to enjoy the taste. I would invite her in, already dressed for bed in this situation, and we would share our drinks in the window seat to watch the moon over the sea. I would do nothing, offer nothing. I imagined her admiring the fabric of my nightgown and taking it between her fingers. I imagined turning my head to accept her kiss. The feel of her tongue on my mouth, asking entrance, and her hands under my nightgown to touch warm skin...
I would taste the wine on her tongue, and I would ask her if she was certain this was what she wanted before we disrobed. My flesh against hers, both of us intoxicated by the drink and the scent of the air, I would allow her to do whatever she wished. That is the only way I could seduce Elizabeth Weir; the choices must be hers, the first step must be taken by her.
McKay
Chocolates and flowers. I know, hugely original. There's a reason I was called Casanova McKay in high school. And that reason is irony was big among the kids with whom I went to high school. Chocolates, who gives a woman chocolates? Most of them are watching their weight, but if you give them fat free chocolates, you're just asking for a smack down because you're implying they need to watch their weight. It's a classic no-win scenario. So no chocolates.
That leaves me with flowers, which... okay, let's just agree that giving women something that will die in less than a week is problematic to begin with. But to present them at the door when your date is on her way out is flat rude. You're forcing her to go back into the house to find something to put them in. "Hi, here's a chore for you to do before we go on our date." Yeah, real smooth. Forget flowers.
And that leaves me completely disarmed. Flowers are a sword, and the chocolates are a shield. Not that I'm going to do battle with her, God. No. But without them, it's just me standing there in front of her door. I've seen me in the mirror all my life and, trust me, I need something extra to stem the tide of disappointment. I need the protection a box of flowers and a bouquet of... oh, you know what I mean! Otherwise what do I have to offer?
Of course, it doesn't have to be so formal. Elizabeth ends up in my lab an awful lot. I gripe at the others, but somehow it's different when it's her. I don't mind having her as a sounding board. She doesn't try to intrude on my thought process. She doesn't try to guide my thinking. Everyone else thinks I want their input. They go against the tide. Elizabeth swims alongside with a rope around her waist. She may not be the one pulling the boat, but she helps get it where it needs to be.
And now I'm picturing her in a swimsuit. Focus.
I suppose in that situation, it would be a little easier to breach the subject. "I haven't had dinner yet. If you were hungry, maybe we could take a break from this and go see who else is at the mess." Keep it social. Don't make it a date, make it a social situation where the other people might not show up. That was my main trick, my move. And Elizabeth being Elizabeth probably would have worked through dinner as well, and she would take me up on my offer.
We would talk. Not about work, but real things. Movies and books. She actually suggested China Miéville novels to me, and we discussed them sometimes over breakfast. Scones. She likes scones. And I like having conversations with her. It's, it's easy. I think because I initially saw her as a... a colleague rather than a potential conquest. She was just another scientist swarming around the most magnificent archaeological find since the Stargate. When I finally opened my eyes and saw who she truly was, she'd become something I never would have thought.
She was my friend.
So I got away with it. Being myself. My abrasive, irritating self didn't scare her away. She considered me a friend as well. Rodney McKay, friends with a beautiful woman. Imagine. But that would just make things more difficult. Once you're friends with a woman, it's nigh impossible to cross that threshold into Something More. But maybe one night I would escort her back to her quarters, and I would make some joke about it being like a date. And maybe she would kiss me goodnight, just to keep up with the joke.
Maybe she would like it. Who knows? Stranger things happen on a weekly basis in this city.
Who knows? Maybe it could be that simple. Dinner and a conversation between friends, and a kiss in the shadows outside her door. Only one thing was for certain.
No flowers. No chocolate. Who am I, Charlie Brown?
Carter
They got off on the wrong foot. Elizabeth couldn't allow a mission to the Asgard to save Colonel O'Neill, and Sam refused to back down. They spent her time running the SGC at each other's throats. By the time Elizabeth left, the tensions had calmed somewhat. They had reached détente, if not actual friendship. Sam sometimes wondered what would have happened if she'd taken an extra step.
She knew when Elizabeth was leaving. She could have caught up with her in the parking structure. They could have had a heart to heart, and Sam could have asked her to go for a beer to mend fences. Once she had a few drinks in her, she could explain the real reason behind her obsession. After losing her father, and Janet, she couldn't bear the idea of losing someone else. Her father was self-explanatory, but Janet... that would require giving over a certain amount of trust. To admit Janet was more than just a close friend and confidante would show Elizabeth just how much Sam really trusted her.
And the admission would set the rules for the night to come. Whatever happened wasn't a relationship. Sam wasn't ready to replace Janet. But sometimes the nights were far too long to spend alone. They would kiss for the first time in the bar parking lot, and then Sam would offer to take Elizabeth home. They would spend the night before Elizabeth left for Antarctica together, and it would mean a lot of things. A goodbye, an apology, a wish that things had been different between them.
In the morning, Sam would make her breakfast. She would drive her to the airstrip where a plane would be waiting. They might kiss goodbye, they might not. But they would leave on good terms. And maybe, when Elizabeth made it back to civilization, Sam would offer her a place to stay. There were stranger ways to start a relationship...
Ronon
Sometimes she watches me. Not as much as when I first got here, but sometimes. I'll be in the gym, and she'll be training... no, wait, there's another word for it. Exercising. They do that a lot here. The scientists call it exercising, the military calls it training. I don't really see a difference other than what they wear. Dr. Weir prefers things that cling. Tight little tunics that wrap around her chest and over her shoulders. They leave a lot exposed. Shoulders, chest, stomach, arms. That's how I noticed her noticing me.
I've offered to spare with her, but she just shakes her head and refuses. She'll drink her water, with a towel draped over her shoulder, and watch me. Sometimes I wonder what she would do if I didn't take no for an answer. If I walked over to her, took away her bottle, and struck her. I'd do it lightly. She's still the leader of this place. But just a light tap on her cheek would be enough. I wonder how many times I'd have to do it before she responded. Three?
She'd probably slap my hand away. I'd strike her with the other hand, and then we'd be sparring. I'd take her down easily. Then she would be pinned under me, looking up at me, and I'd relax my grip on her arms. Just enough. So she could get away. If she wanted to. I've seen women like her before. They need to have the options taken away, but not completely. There always had to be an escape.
I'd kiss her roughly. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth, holding her wrists with one hand while the other grabbed her breast. Pinning her lower body with mine. If she hadn't escaped by that point, if she hadn't threatened to kick me off Sheppard's team, she'd probably press herself against me. I know I'd be hard by that point, and she would be able to feel it through the thin pants we'd both be wearing.
I would flip her, push down her pants and then mine. I'd push into her in one smooth motion, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding her hip. It wouldn't be lovemaking, it wouldn't be anything heartfelt or romantic. I would be fucking her. When we were finished, I would retreat from her while I pulled my pants back up. I'd offer her a hand to help her stand up.
And she would nod at me, and she would look grateful and embarrassed at the same time. It was something none of them understood. Not Sheppard, or Beckett, or even McKay who is supposed to know everything. Sometimes a person just needs to be fucked to get it out of their system. I would let Elizabeth know without saying anything that I would always be there if she needed me, and she would thank me without saying anything back.
People didn't need to use so many words.
Lorne
Sometimes I watch them together. They're my bosses, my commanding officers, but I can't help but fantasize. Fantasies are safe, even this far from home. There are rumors, all kinds of rumors, about just how much fraternization they do. But I know the truth. I know they've never done anything, because I've seen Colonel Sheppard on overnight missions. I've seen him stroking through his pants when he thinks no one is watching, and I've seen him whisper her name when he comes.
I lay naked on top of my blankets at night, safe behind the locked door of my room where no voyeur can witness. I use lotion, teasing my cock with light touches until it gets hard. I don't want to start with the sex; I want a seduction and a dance. I want a little bit of romance even if I'm the one calling all the shots. I picture Elizabeth in a low-cut dress, and Colonel Sheppard in a shirt unbuttoned low enough to see his chest hair.
In my fantasy, I'm the one who brings them together. A nice dinner, just friends. And then I suggest music. I dance, I pull Elizabeth to me, and I keep my eye on Colonel Sheppard as he tries to hide how jealous he is. Elizabeth and I move together like we share a brain, like we've been training for years. I feel the hard plane of her stomach against my groin and it starts to grow. Elizabeth feels it, I know she can, because her ears get red. But she doesn't stop the dance.
Colonel Sheppard stops it. He pushes me away, glares at me, and then turns to Elizabeth. They kiss because of me. Elizabeth still has one hand on my arm, the other around John's waist, and I watch their tongues move between their mouths as they finally kiss, and my cock gets harder. Visible now, tenting my trousers as Elizabeth breaks the kiss and looks at me. She kisses me, and I keep my eyes open to see John watching me. Hungry.
Elizabeth drops her hand to my slacks and rubs me. I'm about to burst as John covers her hand with his. He's shy, but Elizabeth whispers encouragement. She unzips me, and John takes me into a loose circle of his fingers. They kiss as he strokes me, and my hand is on Elizabeth's ass, and I kiss her neck. I kiss John's neck, and I feel him tense.
Elizabeth would kiss me. Then she would take my cock away from John.
John would kiss me, and slide down my body. Her dress would be lifted and John would use his tongue on us both. Going from one to the other. Sucking, licking, nibbling. His hand on my balls while his tongue was inside of Elizabeth. We undressed each other in fits and starts, leading Elizabeth to the bed and laying her down.
I would let John go first. It's only natural that he is the one to be with her first. I kiss his back, wetting two fingers in my mouth before I press them against him. He grunts as my middle finger penetrates him, and then I'm inside. I pump slowly, stretching him as Elizabeth cries out underneath him, and then I climb onto the bed. I tease him with the tip, kiss his neck, and look down at Elizabeth spread out on my mattress. With a single push, I'm inside of John.
Late at night, I think of the positions we would take. Elizabeth between us, me inside of her while she strokes John with her tongue. I masturbate while I think of Elizabeth watching me and John stroking each other, putting on a show for her. I came imagining Elizabeth's hand cupped under the head of my cock, and I can almost see John stroking his cock so that he can come at the same time, both of us coming on Elizabeth as we face each other. Facing each other, like we're mirror images. Elizabeth's tongue moving from one cock to the other as if there were no difference.
I come whispering both their names, my back arched and my heels digging into the mattress as I spill my come uselessly. I go limp, twitching, holding my still plump cock with both hands as I imagine John's tongue running up its side, Elizabeth looking up at me as she closes her lips around the tip and sucks gently. She'd massage my balls, John would cup her breasts, and then the three of us would lie together sated.
I close my eyes with a smile, letting my cock go soft as I fall into a satisfied slumber. I already know what my dreams will be about, and I can't wait to get to them.
Chuck
I wonder if she has ever noticed that I request late night shifts whenever she's burning the midnight oil. Sometimes I'll switch off with Amelia if I notice Dr. Weir is still in her office at the end of my shift. I'll bring something to read, since the night shift is always a lot more dull than the rest of the day. It's odd; even though our night doesn't necessarily correspond to alien worlds, once the sun goes down it's definitely quieter around the Gate room.
I'm glad her office is glass, so that I have a valid excuse for watching her. Every now and then she'll look up and catch me, and she'll smile. Every now and then she'll wave me in. So I'll take her a cup of coffee and let her vent about McKay or Sheppard or the IOA. It's part of my job, to be the sounding board for her irritation. She can't very well call Woolsey a simpering fool to his face without severe repercussions, so she says it to me.
I don't mind listening. In fact, sometimes I imagine taking it a step further. Stepping around her desk and putting my hands on her shoulders to massage out the tension I know she stores there. She would be confused at first, but not for long. I've gotten some compliments on my massage technique. Soon her head would be dropping forward, and she would be making noises of contentment rather than actually forming words.
Once I'd taken care of her shoulders and arms, I would ask her if there was anything else I could do for her. She would look up at me, and I'd keep my face neutral. Then I imagine she would say my name - softly - and I would bend down and lightly kiss her lips. It wouldn't last long; she couldn't very well be seen kissing a man who was essentially her secretary. But she would ask me when my shift ended, and I would tell her that it ended when hers did. Then we'd wait until that mythical hour arrived and she would walk with me to the transport.
I would finish my massage first. Take off her boots, use my thumbs in the arch of her foot until she forgot that she'd ever worn a shoe in her life. Then more kissing, and our clothes would slowly come off. I would take her to the bedroom - her quarters, since mine are... well, it would just be better in her quarters - and I would make slow, sweet, tender love to her. I imagine she would be on top, and I'd look up at her while she slowly sank down onto me and--
Her voice breaks my reverie, and I drop the book I'd been pretending to read onto my lap to cover any evidence of my train of thought. She asks me about a mission report, and I check to see that Colonel Sheppard had indeed filed it forty-five minutes earlier. She thanks me and then asks if I'm all right. I lie and say I'm fine. She orders me to tell her if I need to leave early and then returns to her office. I can't help myself and look at her ass when she turns away from me.
I clear my throat and place my book on the console. I filed away the image of her uniform slacks for later when I was alone in my quarters and could do something about it. For now, I had a shift to finish. One more hour. I looked through the glass of Dr. Weir's office just as she lowered herself into her seat, tapping on the keyboard to access the mission report I'd told her was waiting.
I smiled and went back to my own work.
Cadman
I believe in being up-front and honest with my superiors. Screw the not asking, not telling bullshit. I set up a meeting with Dr. Weir my first day after arriving on the Daedalus. Things were pretty hectic at that time, so it took a while before she finally had a few free minutes. I asked her permission to be frank and, when she granted it, I told her I was gay. I was not currently in a relationship and had no bearing on my duty, but I felt she should know in case it became an issue with my fellow soldiers.
She listened, hands folded on the desk, and nodded when I finished. She said that she understood, that she was grateful for my candor, but that it wouldn't come up. She said Atlantis was a long way from the nearest military tribunal so regulations would be a little more relaxed. On top of that, she was a civilian and her expedition was civilian. There was no such thing as DADT in her vocabulary. I thanked her, and left the office feeling lighter than air.
My first testing of the rules was letting my hair down while on duty. A few of the soldiers glanced at me, but no one said anything. I once shared a transport with Colonel Sheppard, worried he would say something. When the doors finally opened, he stepped out and ran a hand over his own hair. He smiled when he told me the brass would probably make him cut his hair, too. He winked at me and left me alone.
My meal with Elizabeth was a set-up by Kate Heightmeyer. It was supposed to be all three of us, but at the last minute Kate cancelled and turned it into a twosome. Neither myself nor Elizabeth were fooled, but we made the most of it. Cards on the table, I told Elizabeth that Kate knew I was gay. Elizabeth said that she'd made some confessions herself under the protective dome of therapy, and we deduced dinner was Kate's way of letting us know without breaking confidence.
Elizabeth admitted she had a crush on me. I was overwhelmed by the idea. I'm sure I blushed. I told her that I felt the same. We ate dinner and walked to a deserted area of the city. I told Elizabeth I knew how to dance, and she asked me to show her. So I hummed, put my hand on her waist, and I danced her around with the waves lapping against the edge of the city right beside us.
It was dark when I kissed her. We were wearing loose clothing, and I teased the zipper on her dress. She just nodded, and I dragged it down and ran my hand over her skin. Down, kissing her again as I continued to move my feet. She let me lead; I always lead when I dance. To someone glancing out their window, it would simply have looked like we were dancing. But her tongue was on my lips and my fingers were inside of her as we swayed to the music only we could hear.
After she came, I zipped her dress back up and took her hand. We went back to my quarters where she stripped off my clothes, sat me on the bed, and knelt between my legs. I always knew negotiators had silver tongues, but Elizabeth. Oh, Elizabeth. I came harder than I expected, tears in my eyes, and pulled her to me. Our bodies fit together perfectly, and I whispered a promise to thank Kate for betraying our secrets. Elizabeth laughed and cuddled closer to me as I stroked her back with two fingers.
We fell asleep together, Elizabeth dropping off right before I did. I remember hearing her breath becoming slow, her muscles relaxing as she sank into me.
O'Neill
We would have to discreet. The IOA has enough reason to spank us (bad choice of words), we don't need to add another one. I started thinking about it not long after I got back from my Time Away. Gotta love those Ancient mind scramblers. Anyway, I was intrigued by the idea of working for a woman younger than me. A civilian. A very hot, younger, female civilian in charge of the SGC. But she'd gained the respect of Daniel and Carter, so I figured I would give her a chance before I started plotting her downfall. Then, out of nowhere, bang. She walked out the door and gave me a promotion as a parting gift.
Hard not to have a little crush on someone who did something like that.
All of a sudden, she wasn't my superior anymore. She was my equal. Sometimes we would talk over web-internet-cam things so she could chart her progress down in Antarctica. Odd how often those little chats turned away from work topics. I knew what she was going through. She was in some godforsaken place - freezing rather than dripping with sweat - and cut off from the real world. I did my best to be a conduit for her. I recapped Simpsons episodes for her, and it was four weeks before she admitted she really didn't like the show.
I threatened to fire her on the spot.
So with all of that boiling under the surface, when she came back to the States and was actually standing in my office, things were a little... awkward. On my part, anyway. She was probably way too distracted by the possibilities of the outpost to think too clearly. For years, my forbidden fantasy had been Carter. Now it seemed there was a slender brunette vying for her place in my 'Never Go There' fantasy file.
I would say I didn't even know how to approach her, but that would be a lie. Scientists working at the outpost were at the mercy of base drivers. They either needed to find a ride down the mountain or take quarters here on the base. The base is fine, but there's a reason Zagat never rated us. So I would offer her a ride and, if she was staying somewhere particularly downscale, I'd offer her my guest room.
We're both grownups. We can respect each other's space. Or not, if that was what she wanted. I would be a perfect gentleman until she gave me a signal that she'd prefer something else. A hand held a little too long or a goodnight kiss that strays a little too close to the lips. It would have to be something unmistakable, something that couldn't be misconstrued.
It would be a tough balance, sure. Trying to keep things professional while keeping everything quiet from the IOA. They would probably use any relationship as an excuse to remove us both from power. Set up some lackey yes-man in our places and control both the SGC and the Ancient outpost.
It wouldn't be easy, but a woman like that was worth a little effort.
Elizabeth
The Atlanteans had their faults, but they knew how to build a bathtub. I tried not to take advantage of my position as expedition leader, but I did make one request. I wanted quarters with a huge bathtub. Preferably one with a window. I didn't mind terribly about people seeing in (angles of the residential area and one-way glass took care of that), I just wanted to see out while I soaked. I hoarded bath salts and bubble bath. I traded books with other expedition members and requested any scented soaps they might have.
In my robe, I sat on the edge of my tub to light candles. The overhead lights were low, and soon the designs on the walls flickered as if they had come to life. Once the candles were all lit, I untied my robe and dipped a toe into the water. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Go Ancients. I slid into the water, pressing my back into the little inlet that hugged my body as if it was a shell formed just for me.
I washed my chest and arms, lifting my right foot to wash my leg. The water cascaded down my calf and over my thigh. I ran the sponge over my breasts as I looked out the window. A Puddle Jumper moved lazily over the central tower like a fat fly, and I wondered who was at the console. John? Evan? I bit my bottom lip and slid higher out of the water. I imagined they could see me. They were watching me. I imagined them getting hard as they looked at my naked body.
The sponge went under the water and I pressed it against my sex. I sank back under the water as the ship went into the hangar. I closed my eyes and let the sponge float away. I whimpered as my fingers touched slick, ready flesh. I had been thinking about this all day. The way Chuck looked at me through the glass, the way General O'Neill stopped talking and averted his gaze as he stopped himself from saying too much. I thought about Teyla's lips on mine, the briefest kiss of my adult life and yet one I couldn't stop thinking about. I pictured Ronon in the gym, sweat running in rivulets down his chest. His dark nipples. His cock swinging inside of his loose trousers in a way that left nothing to the imagination...
So many possibilities. So many lovers I could take as my own if I just said the word. I parted my lips in a silent gasp, moving my other hand to stroke the hard bud of my clitoris. I moved my hips against my hand, biting my lip as I hunched my shoulders. I had toys, but I didn't want them. Not tonight. I wanted flesh inside of me, even if it was my own. I squeezed my eyes shut, cried out, and turned my head to brush my cheek over my shoulder as I came with a tremor.
I sank down to my neck in the bubbles, staring out the window. The Puddle Jumper was long gone. Maybe I should call John or Lorne and see where they were. If they wanted to come by and see my bathtub. I could be in it when they arrived. No way to misconstrue that invitation. I blushed a little and self-consciously wiped my hand over my cheek. I'd have to run that through my brain a little before I was brave enough to act on it in real life.
Fortunately, running through fantasies had a side benefit. I closed my eyes and moved my hand back between my legs.
I would call John first...
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir/Teyla Emmagan, Elizabeth Weir/Rodney McKay, Elizabeth Weir/Ronon Dex, Elizabeth Weir/Evan Lorne/John Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir/Chuck, Elizabeth Weir/Samantha Carter, Elizabeth Weir/Jack O'Neill, Elizabeth Weir/Laura Cadman
Word Count: 6,039
Category: PWP, Romance
Spoilers: Threads, Heroes, Lost City, New Order, The Return,
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Consensual rough sex fantasy is mentioned in the Ronon section. Of course, he's fantasizing that it would be consensual, so YMMV.
Author's Notes: Written for pirateveronica's request in the Fall Free-For-All!
Summary: A beautiful, powerful woman is very hard to resist no matter who you are.
John
He was protective of her when they first met. She was a civilian, obviously in over head. That's not a comment on her ability. They were all over their heads during those first insane days exploring the city. John took it as his unspoken duty to make sure the rest of the military didn't run roughshod over her. Eventually he realized that she was as much a bureaucrat as a leader. She sometimes failed to understand his methods. She insisted that he spell out every single idea he had before she agreed to it. The adage 'it's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission' became his number one weapon.
Their relationship settled into a nice valley. She was no longer under his wing - she could protect herself as it turned out - and they often found themselves at odds on how to proceed during a crisis. But throughout all the head-butting and sniping at each other across the briefing room table, one thing never changed. He trusted her. He would bitch and moan about some of her decisions, but he trusted her decisions in the end. And he would be the first one coming to her defense if anyone tried to fight her.
Sometimes he lay in bed and thought about her as a woman. He stripped away the idea that she was basically his commanding officer. She was a civilian, but it was still crystal clear who was in charge of Atlantis. That aside, she was a very beautiful woman. The nervous smile, the freckles across the bridge of her nose... the way her eyes would sparkle when she couldn't allow herself to laugh. It was almost like she held the laughter inside of her and turned it into a light show. Sometimes he made jokes just to see that sparkle.
He imagined running into her on Earth. Both of them on leave, in civilian clothes, it would be easy to forget who they were "on the job." He would offer to buy her dinner and take her out on the town. She was definitely the sort of woman he would date under other circumstances. He would have to show her, first, that he wasn't just a soldier. It would be easy for him to look past her title and see her as just a woman. He had to make sure she could do the same. He needed to be seen as something more than someone in her expedition.
If they were on Earth, it would be a lot easier. No offices, no intercoms to call them away. They would be on neutral ground. She would just be Elizabeth and he'd be John. He would show her that he could be a gentleman. It wasn't something he liked to advertise, but he could be damned romantic when the moment called for it. A flower tucked behind her ear, a walk across a bridge at night. Staring into the water and making some comment about the reflection of the moon. And her eyes. He would definitely have to make a comment about her eyes.
She would look at him. There would be one of Those Moments when everything else in the world seemed to stop. And then he would lean in, just a little, and let her close the distance. It would have to be her decision. He would have to hold back to let her know she was still in charge of whatever happened next.
And that was how he would leave it. No more plans on his part. He would lead the way up to the kiss and then it would all be Elizabeth's choice. But in fantasy, he could imagine what she would say.
"That was nice... but it shouldn't happen again."
Or... he pushed his pajamas down just enough to grip his cock, which had grown erect during his ruminations.
"I'm staying at the base. Do you know anyplace less... public?"
He smiled as he thought about hearing her say those words. They would get a hotel room, or go back to the place he'd sublet ever since the Ancients kicked them out a few months back. He would undress her in the living room, lay her down on the couch and kiss his way down her body. And only when she was begging for it would he settle between her legs. He doubted he would last long. Even in fantasy the idea was almost too much for him to hold off. He closed his eyes and imagined seeing Elizabeth under him, eyes wide, shocked at what they were doing but whispering for him not to stop.
He grunted and came, staining the sheets with a muttered curse. As he cleaned himself up, he thought back over the fantasy. Being on Earth was key; they would never take the risk while on Atlantis. But the next time they were on Earth, out of the costumes and masks they wore here on Atlantis? Well, a dinner could be innocent, couldn't it?
Teyla
There's an innocence to her. To all of them, really. I once made the suggestion to Colonel Sheppard that he and Ronon could share body heat on a particularly cold night, and neither man would look the other in the eye for the rest of the night. McKay had become particularly withdrawn after I made the suggestion, growing even more so when I offered my own body heat to them if necessary. It was common practice with the Athosians, who often found themselves cut off from the gate, to camp this way.
When I first arrived in Atlantis, Elizabeth came to me in private to assure me she wouldn't attempt to usurp my role as leader of my people. It was an unnecessary gesture, but one I appreciated nonetheless. We sealed our status as dual leaders by clasping hands and resting our foreheads together. When we parted, I brushed my lips against hers as a gesture of our new intimacy.
She withdrew, touching two fingers to her lips as she said my name. I apologized as she explained that she wasn't rejecting me. She was simply saying no to the situation. It wasn't that she wouldn't, but that she couldn't under the circumstances. I understood her reluctance and I swore to her that I would restrain from similar gestures in the future. She smiled, albeit nervously, and told me it was a nice kiss. I could tell that she wanted to do it again. I waited, but instead she bid me a good night and left my quarters.
I imagine one day I will find her waiting outside of my quarters with a bottle of wine from Earth. I've found that their liqueurs taste different from those fermented on Athos, and I have grown to enjoy the taste. I would invite her in, already dressed for bed in this situation, and we would share our drinks in the window seat to watch the moon over the sea. I would do nothing, offer nothing. I imagined her admiring the fabric of my nightgown and taking it between her fingers. I imagined turning my head to accept her kiss. The feel of her tongue on my mouth, asking entrance, and her hands under my nightgown to touch warm skin...
I would taste the wine on her tongue, and I would ask her if she was certain this was what she wanted before we disrobed. My flesh against hers, both of us intoxicated by the drink and the scent of the air, I would allow her to do whatever she wished. That is the only way I could seduce Elizabeth Weir; the choices must be hers, the first step must be taken by her.
McKay
Chocolates and flowers. I know, hugely original. There's a reason I was called Casanova McKay in high school. And that reason is irony was big among the kids with whom I went to high school. Chocolates, who gives a woman chocolates? Most of them are watching their weight, but if you give them fat free chocolates, you're just asking for a smack down because you're implying they need to watch their weight. It's a classic no-win scenario. So no chocolates.
That leaves me with flowers, which... okay, let's just agree that giving women something that will die in less than a week is problematic to begin with. But to present them at the door when your date is on her way out is flat rude. You're forcing her to go back into the house to find something to put them in. "Hi, here's a chore for you to do before we go on our date." Yeah, real smooth. Forget flowers.
And that leaves me completely disarmed. Flowers are a sword, and the chocolates are a shield. Not that I'm going to do battle with her, God. No. But without them, it's just me standing there in front of her door. I've seen me in the mirror all my life and, trust me, I need something extra to stem the tide of disappointment. I need the protection a box of flowers and a bouquet of... oh, you know what I mean! Otherwise what do I have to offer?
Of course, it doesn't have to be so formal. Elizabeth ends up in my lab an awful lot. I gripe at the others, but somehow it's different when it's her. I don't mind having her as a sounding board. She doesn't try to intrude on my thought process. She doesn't try to guide my thinking. Everyone else thinks I want their input. They go against the tide. Elizabeth swims alongside with a rope around her waist. She may not be the one pulling the boat, but she helps get it where it needs to be.
And now I'm picturing her in a swimsuit. Focus.
I suppose in that situation, it would be a little easier to breach the subject. "I haven't had dinner yet. If you were hungry, maybe we could take a break from this and go see who else is at the mess." Keep it social. Don't make it a date, make it a social situation where the other people might not show up. That was my main trick, my move. And Elizabeth being Elizabeth probably would have worked through dinner as well, and she would take me up on my offer.
We would talk. Not about work, but real things. Movies and books. She actually suggested China Miéville novels to me, and we discussed them sometimes over breakfast. Scones. She likes scones. And I like having conversations with her. It's, it's easy. I think because I initially saw her as a... a colleague rather than a potential conquest. She was just another scientist swarming around the most magnificent archaeological find since the Stargate. When I finally opened my eyes and saw who she truly was, she'd become something I never would have thought.
She was my friend.
So I got away with it. Being myself. My abrasive, irritating self didn't scare her away. She considered me a friend as well. Rodney McKay, friends with a beautiful woman. Imagine. But that would just make things more difficult. Once you're friends with a woman, it's nigh impossible to cross that threshold into Something More. But maybe one night I would escort her back to her quarters, and I would make some joke about it being like a date. And maybe she would kiss me goodnight, just to keep up with the joke.
Maybe she would like it. Who knows? Stranger things happen on a weekly basis in this city.
Who knows? Maybe it could be that simple. Dinner and a conversation between friends, and a kiss in the shadows outside her door. Only one thing was for certain.
No flowers. No chocolate. Who am I, Charlie Brown?
Carter
They got off on the wrong foot. Elizabeth couldn't allow a mission to the Asgard to save Colonel O'Neill, and Sam refused to back down. They spent her time running the SGC at each other's throats. By the time Elizabeth left, the tensions had calmed somewhat. They had reached détente, if not actual friendship. Sam sometimes wondered what would have happened if she'd taken an extra step.
She knew when Elizabeth was leaving. She could have caught up with her in the parking structure. They could have had a heart to heart, and Sam could have asked her to go for a beer to mend fences. Once she had a few drinks in her, she could explain the real reason behind her obsession. After losing her father, and Janet, she couldn't bear the idea of losing someone else. Her father was self-explanatory, but Janet... that would require giving over a certain amount of trust. To admit Janet was more than just a close friend and confidante would show Elizabeth just how much Sam really trusted her.
And the admission would set the rules for the night to come. Whatever happened wasn't a relationship. Sam wasn't ready to replace Janet. But sometimes the nights were far too long to spend alone. They would kiss for the first time in the bar parking lot, and then Sam would offer to take Elizabeth home. They would spend the night before Elizabeth left for Antarctica together, and it would mean a lot of things. A goodbye, an apology, a wish that things had been different between them.
In the morning, Sam would make her breakfast. She would drive her to the airstrip where a plane would be waiting. They might kiss goodbye, they might not. But they would leave on good terms. And maybe, when Elizabeth made it back to civilization, Sam would offer her a place to stay. There were stranger ways to start a relationship...
Ronon
Sometimes she watches me. Not as much as when I first got here, but sometimes. I'll be in the gym, and she'll be training... no, wait, there's another word for it. Exercising. They do that a lot here. The scientists call it exercising, the military calls it training. I don't really see a difference other than what they wear. Dr. Weir prefers things that cling. Tight little tunics that wrap around her chest and over her shoulders. They leave a lot exposed. Shoulders, chest, stomach, arms. That's how I noticed her noticing me.
I've offered to spare with her, but she just shakes her head and refuses. She'll drink her water, with a towel draped over her shoulder, and watch me. Sometimes I wonder what she would do if I didn't take no for an answer. If I walked over to her, took away her bottle, and struck her. I'd do it lightly. She's still the leader of this place. But just a light tap on her cheek would be enough. I wonder how many times I'd have to do it before she responded. Three?
She'd probably slap my hand away. I'd strike her with the other hand, and then we'd be sparring. I'd take her down easily. Then she would be pinned under me, looking up at me, and I'd relax my grip on her arms. Just enough. So she could get away. If she wanted to. I've seen women like her before. They need to have the options taken away, but not completely. There always had to be an escape.
I'd kiss her roughly. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth, holding her wrists with one hand while the other grabbed her breast. Pinning her lower body with mine. If she hadn't escaped by that point, if she hadn't threatened to kick me off Sheppard's team, she'd probably press herself against me. I know I'd be hard by that point, and she would be able to feel it through the thin pants we'd both be wearing.
I would flip her, push down her pants and then mine. I'd push into her in one smooth motion, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding her hip. It wouldn't be lovemaking, it wouldn't be anything heartfelt or romantic. I would be fucking her. When we were finished, I would retreat from her while I pulled my pants back up. I'd offer her a hand to help her stand up.
And she would nod at me, and she would look grateful and embarrassed at the same time. It was something none of them understood. Not Sheppard, or Beckett, or even McKay who is supposed to know everything. Sometimes a person just needs to be fucked to get it out of their system. I would let Elizabeth know without saying anything that I would always be there if she needed me, and she would thank me without saying anything back.
People didn't need to use so many words.
Lorne
Sometimes I watch them together. They're my bosses, my commanding officers, but I can't help but fantasize. Fantasies are safe, even this far from home. There are rumors, all kinds of rumors, about just how much fraternization they do. But I know the truth. I know they've never done anything, because I've seen Colonel Sheppard on overnight missions. I've seen him stroking through his pants when he thinks no one is watching, and I've seen him whisper her name when he comes.
I lay naked on top of my blankets at night, safe behind the locked door of my room where no voyeur can witness. I use lotion, teasing my cock with light touches until it gets hard. I don't want to start with the sex; I want a seduction and a dance. I want a little bit of romance even if I'm the one calling all the shots. I picture Elizabeth in a low-cut dress, and Colonel Sheppard in a shirt unbuttoned low enough to see his chest hair.
In my fantasy, I'm the one who brings them together. A nice dinner, just friends. And then I suggest music. I dance, I pull Elizabeth to me, and I keep my eye on Colonel Sheppard as he tries to hide how jealous he is. Elizabeth and I move together like we share a brain, like we've been training for years. I feel the hard plane of her stomach against my groin and it starts to grow. Elizabeth feels it, I know she can, because her ears get red. But she doesn't stop the dance.
Colonel Sheppard stops it. He pushes me away, glares at me, and then turns to Elizabeth. They kiss because of me. Elizabeth still has one hand on my arm, the other around John's waist, and I watch their tongues move between their mouths as they finally kiss, and my cock gets harder. Visible now, tenting my trousers as Elizabeth breaks the kiss and looks at me. She kisses me, and I keep my eyes open to see John watching me. Hungry.
Elizabeth drops her hand to my slacks and rubs me. I'm about to burst as John covers her hand with his. He's shy, but Elizabeth whispers encouragement. She unzips me, and John takes me into a loose circle of his fingers. They kiss as he strokes me, and my hand is on Elizabeth's ass, and I kiss her neck. I kiss John's neck, and I feel him tense.
Elizabeth would kiss me. Then she would take my cock away from John.
John would kiss me, and slide down my body. Her dress would be lifted and John would use his tongue on us both. Going from one to the other. Sucking, licking, nibbling. His hand on my balls while his tongue was inside of Elizabeth. We undressed each other in fits and starts, leading Elizabeth to the bed and laying her down.
I would let John go first. It's only natural that he is the one to be with her first. I kiss his back, wetting two fingers in my mouth before I press them against him. He grunts as my middle finger penetrates him, and then I'm inside. I pump slowly, stretching him as Elizabeth cries out underneath him, and then I climb onto the bed. I tease him with the tip, kiss his neck, and look down at Elizabeth spread out on my mattress. With a single push, I'm inside of John.
Late at night, I think of the positions we would take. Elizabeth between us, me inside of her while she strokes John with her tongue. I masturbate while I think of Elizabeth watching me and John stroking each other, putting on a show for her. I came imagining Elizabeth's hand cupped under the head of my cock, and I can almost see John stroking his cock so that he can come at the same time, both of us coming on Elizabeth as we face each other. Facing each other, like we're mirror images. Elizabeth's tongue moving from one cock to the other as if there were no difference.
I come whispering both their names, my back arched and my heels digging into the mattress as I spill my come uselessly. I go limp, twitching, holding my still plump cock with both hands as I imagine John's tongue running up its side, Elizabeth looking up at me as she closes her lips around the tip and sucks gently. She'd massage my balls, John would cup her breasts, and then the three of us would lie together sated.
I close my eyes with a smile, letting my cock go soft as I fall into a satisfied slumber. I already know what my dreams will be about, and I can't wait to get to them.
Chuck
I wonder if she has ever noticed that I request late night shifts whenever she's burning the midnight oil. Sometimes I'll switch off with Amelia if I notice Dr. Weir is still in her office at the end of my shift. I'll bring something to read, since the night shift is always a lot more dull than the rest of the day. It's odd; even though our night doesn't necessarily correspond to alien worlds, once the sun goes down it's definitely quieter around the Gate room.
I'm glad her office is glass, so that I have a valid excuse for watching her. Every now and then she'll look up and catch me, and she'll smile. Every now and then she'll wave me in. So I'll take her a cup of coffee and let her vent about McKay or Sheppard or the IOA. It's part of my job, to be the sounding board for her irritation. She can't very well call Woolsey a simpering fool to his face without severe repercussions, so she says it to me.
I don't mind listening. In fact, sometimes I imagine taking it a step further. Stepping around her desk and putting my hands on her shoulders to massage out the tension I know she stores there. She would be confused at first, but not for long. I've gotten some compliments on my massage technique. Soon her head would be dropping forward, and she would be making noises of contentment rather than actually forming words.
Once I'd taken care of her shoulders and arms, I would ask her if there was anything else I could do for her. She would look up at me, and I'd keep my face neutral. Then I imagine she would say my name - softly - and I would bend down and lightly kiss her lips. It wouldn't last long; she couldn't very well be seen kissing a man who was essentially her secretary. But she would ask me when my shift ended, and I would tell her that it ended when hers did. Then we'd wait until that mythical hour arrived and she would walk with me to the transport.
I would finish my massage first. Take off her boots, use my thumbs in the arch of her foot until she forgot that she'd ever worn a shoe in her life. Then more kissing, and our clothes would slowly come off. I would take her to the bedroom - her quarters, since mine are... well, it would just be better in her quarters - and I would make slow, sweet, tender love to her. I imagine she would be on top, and I'd look up at her while she slowly sank down onto me and--
Her voice breaks my reverie, and I drop the book I'd been pretending to read onto my lap to cover any evidence of my train of thought. She asks me about a mission report, and I check to see that Colonel Sheppard had indeed filed it forty-five minutes earlier. She thanks me and then asks if I'm all right. I lie and say I'm fine. She orders me to tell her if I need to leave early and then returns to her office. I can't help myself and look at her ass when she turns away from me.
I clear my throat and place my book on the console. I filed away the image of her uniform slacks for later when I was alone in my quarters and could do something about it. For now, I had a shift to finish. One more hour. I looked through the glass of Dr. Weir's office just as she lowered herself into her seat, tapping on the keyboard to access the mission report I'd told her was waiting.
I smiled and went back to my own work.
Cadman
I believe in being up-front and honest with my superiors. Screw the not asking, not telling bullshit. I set up a meeting with Dr. Weir my first day after arriving on the Daedalus. Things were pretty hectic at that time, so it took a while before she finally had a few free minutes. I asked her permission to be frank and, when she granted it, I told her I was gay. I was not currently in a relationship and had no bearing on my duty, but I felt she should know in case it became an issue with my fellow soldiers.
She listened, hands folded on the desk, and nodded when I finished. She said that she understood, that she was grateful for my candor, but that it wouldn't come up. She said Atlantis was a long way from the nearest military tribunal so regulations would be a little more relaxed. On top of that, she was a civilian and her expedition was civilian. There was no such thing as DADT in her vocabulary. I thanked her, and left the office feeling lighter than air.
My first testing of the rules was letting my hair down while on duty. A few of the soldiers glanced at me, but no one said anything. I once shared a transport with Colonel Sheppard, worried he would say something. When the doors finally opened, he stepped out and ran a hand over his own hair. He smiled when he told me the brass would probably make him cut his hair, too. He winked at me and left me alone.
My meal with Elizabeth was a set-up by Kate Heightmeyer. It was supposed to be all three of us, but at the last minute Kate cancelled and turned it into a twosome. Neither myself nor Elizabeth were fooled, but we made the most of it. Cards on the table, I told Elizabeth that Kate knew I was gay. Elizabeth said that she'd made some confessions herself under the protective dome of therapy, and we deduced dinner was Kate's way of letting us know without breaking confidence.
Elizabeth admitted she had a crush on me. I was overwhelmed by the idea. I'm sure I blushed. I told her that I felt the same. We ate dinner and walked to a deserted area of the city. I told Elizabeth I knew how to dance, and she asked me to show her. So I hummed, put my hand on her waist, and I danced her around with the waves lapping against the edge of the city right beside us.
It was dark when I kissed her. We were wearing loose clothing, and I teased the zipper on her dress. She just nodded, and I dragged it down and ran my hand over her skin. Down, kissing her again as I continued to move my feet. She let me lead; I always lead when I dance. To someone glancing out their window, it would simply have looked like we were dancing. But her tongue was on my lips and my fingers were inside of her as we swayed to the music only we could hear.
After she came, I zipped her dress back up and took her hand. We went back to my quarters where she stripped off my clothes, sat me on the bed, and knelt between my legs. I always knew negotiators had silver tongues, but Elizabeth. Oh, Elizabeth. I came harder than I expected, tears in my eyes, and pulled her to me. Our bodies fit together perfectly, and I whispered a promise to thank Kate for betraying our secrets. Elizabeth laughed and cuddled closer to me as I stroked her back with two fingers.
We fell asleep together, Elizabeth dropping off right before I did. I remember hearing her breath becoming slow, her muscles relaxing as she sank into me.
O'Neill
We would have to discreet. The IOA has enough reason to spank us (bad choice of words), we don't need to add another one. I started thinking about it not long after I got back from my Time Away. Gotta love those Ancient mind scramblers. Anyway, I was intrigued by the idea of working for a woman younger than me. A civilian. A very hot, younger, female civilian in charge of the SGC. But she'd gained the respect of Daniel and Carter, so I figured I would give her a chance before I started plotting her downfall. Then, out of nowhere, bang. She walked out the door and gave me a promotion as a parting gift.
Hard not to have a little crush on someone who did something like that.
All of a sudden, she wasn't my superior anymore. She was my equal. Sometimes we would talk over web-internet-cam things so she could chart her progress down in Antarctica. Odd how often those little chats turned away from work topics. I knew what she was going through. She was in some godforsaken place - freezing rather than dripping with sweat - and cut off from the real world. I did my best to be a conduit for her. I recapped Simpsons episodes for her, and it was four weeks before she admitted she really didn't like the show.
I threatened to fire her on the spot.
So with all of that boiling under the surface, when she came back to the States and was actually standing in my office, things were a little... awkward. On my part, anyway. She was probably way too distracted by the possibilities of the outpost to think too clearly. For years, my forbidden fantasy had been Carter. Now it seemed there was a slender brunette vying for her place in my 'Never Go There' fantasy file.
I would say I didn't even know how to approach her, but that would be a lie. Scientists working at the outpost were at the mercy of base drivers. They either needed to find a ride down the mountain or take quarters here on the base. The base is fine, but there's a reason Zagat never rated us. So I would offer her a ride and, if she was staying somewhere particularly downscale, I'd offer her my guest room.
We're both grownups. We can respect each other's space. Or not, if that was what she wanted. I would be a perfect gentleman until she gave me a signal that she'd prefer something else. A hand held a little too long or a goodnight kiss that strays a little too close to the lips. It would have to be something unmistakable, something that couldn't be misconstrued.
It would be a tough balance, sure. Trying to keep things professional while keeping everything quiet from the IOA. They would probably use any relationship as an excuse to remove us both from power. Set up some lackey yes-man in our places and control both the SGC and the Ancient outpost.
It wouldn't be easy, but a woman like that was worth a little effort.
Elizabeth
The Atlanteans had their faults, but they knew how to build a bathtub. I tried not to take advantage of my position as expedition leader, but I did make one request. I wanted quarters with a huge bathtub. Preferably one with a window. I didn't mind terribly about people seeing in (angles of the residential area and one-way glass took care of that), I just wanted to see out while I soaked. I hoarded bath salts and bubble bath. I traded books with other expedition members and requested any scented soaps they might have.
In my robe, I sat on the edge of my tub to light candles. The overhead lights were low, and soon the designs on the walls flickered as if they had come to life. Once the candles were all lit, I untied my robe and dipped a toe into the water. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Go Ancients. I slid into the water, pressing my back into the little inlet that hugged my body as if it was a shell formed just for me.
I washed my chest and arms, lifting my right foot to wash my leg. The water cascaded down my calf and over my thigh. I ran the sponge over my breasts as I looked out the window. A Puddle Jumper moved lazily over the central tower like a fat fly, and I wondered who was at the console. John? Evan? I bit my bottom lip and slid higher out of the water. I imagined they could see me. They were watching me. I imagined them getting hard as they looked at my naked body.
The sponge went under the water and I pressed it against my sex. I sank back under the water as the ship went into the hangar. I closed my eyes and let the sponge float away. I whimpered as my fingers touched slick, ready flesh. I had been thinking about this all day. The way Chuck looked at me through the glass, the way General O'Neill stopped talking and averted his gaze as he stopped himself from saying too much. I thought about Teyla's lips on mine, the briefest kiss of my adult life and yet one I couldn't stop thinking about. I pictured Ronon in the gym, sweat running in rivulets down his chest. His dark nipples. His cock swinging inside of his loose trousers in a way that left nothing to the imagination...
So many possibilities. So many lovers I could take as my own if I just said the word. I parted my lips in a silent gasp, moving my other hand to stroke the hard bud of my clitoris. I moved my hips against my hand, biting my lip as I hunched my shoulders. I had toys, but I didn't want them. Not tonight. I wanted flesh inside of me, even if it was my own. I squeezed my eyes shut, cried out, and turned my head to brush my cheek over my shoulder as I came with a tremor.
I sank down to my neck in the bubbles, staring out the window. The Puddle Jumper was long gone. Maybe I should call John or Lorne and see where they were. If they wanted to come by and see my bathtub. I could be in it when they arrived. No way to misconstrue that invitation. I blushed a little and self-consciously wiped my hand over my cheek. I'd have to run that through my brain a little before I was brave enough to act on it in real life.
Fortunately, running through fantasies had a side benefit. I closed my eyes and moved my hand back between my legs.
I would call John first...