geonncannon
in
mmom
DAY 17: "A Moment for Her," Elizabeth Weir, SGA
Title: A Moment for Her
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Self-Lover: Elizabeth Weir
Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/Jack O'Neill/Sam Carter (fantasy)
Spoilers: General series info
Words: 1,427
Date: Day 17
Requested by return2zero! Thank you SO much for requesting Weir. I don't think I ever would have written this if you hadn't, and Weir definitely needs more love. Even if it is self-inflicted. ~g~ The poll to suggest future pairings/stories
Summary: The days on Atlantis were longer, but Elizabeth couldn't tell.
Her mind boggled at the sheer range of responsibilities required of her. She could spend three hours drafting a treaty with a group of settlers on a faraway planet, then eat lunch in a massive cathedral of glass and stone while looking out on an alien sea, and then she would spend twenty minutes settling a squabble between two groups of scientists. She was the foremost diplomat in the world - maybe the foremost human diplomat in the entire universe - and sometimes she felt like a kindergarten teacher.
Then there were the day-to-day things. Her adjutant, God bless her soul, compiled the more mundane supply lists, but it was Elizabeth's responsibility to sign off on them. She could go from finessing the wording of a concession speech that would help them survive another year, and then she would be forced to justify including seventeen boxes of Frootees in the next shipment of supplies.
Scientists were annoyed at the military. The military was irritated at the scientists. They all came to her for mediation. Elizabeth often soothed nerves while on her way to the restroom, had often moderated arguments over her headset while she was changing clothes. Not dressing for the day; just changing from one set of the clothes to the next. Her days often blended together, but something in her head forced her to change clothes after eighteen hours.
When she had a few minutes to breathe, she often stayed in her office and played computer Solitaire. She rarely made it through a single game without an interruption, which made her glad she hadn't gone off to do something more daunting like trying to bathe or eat.
One morning she woke up in her bed and stared at the wall, her hand under the pillow, and tried to figure out what felt wrong. The air was perfectly cool thanks to the open window. She loved the smell of the air washing over the sea. She rolled onto her back and pushed her blankets down to her waist. She wore a silk tank top and sweatpants, her toes curling under the blankets as she tensed and relaxed her muscles to stretch them with the least amount of movement required.
Then she realized what the strangeness was. No alarm. No call. No one saying her name to pull her from slumber. She had long ago fallen out of the habit of setting an alarm clock, so she'd actually been able to sleep until her body woke up. It was a strange feeling. The day she climbed into Vice President Kinsey's limousine, her life had made a change for the sleepless. She didn't mind. She preferred moving to sleeping anyway.
But she had to admit, this was nice. To be in bed, to be able to lie there for a few minutes and just enjoy being rested. She stretched her arms over her head and then lowered them, dragging her fingers lightly over the curve of her breast. There was another luxury she hadn't had the time or inclination to indulge since coming to Atlantis. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes as she put her hand into her sweatpants.
She scrolled through her list of fantasies like they were on a Rolodex. Simon? No. Nothing against the man, but she had been with him enough in real life. The whole point of fantasizing was to explore the unknown in the safety of her subconscious. She thought back to when she was first brought into the Stargate Program. General Jack O'Neill.
Oh, that could do nicely. She began to stroke herself through her underwear as she remembered him in her office, watching while she packed up. Her thanking him for everything he had done for the planet. It had never occurred to her in the moment, but in her fantasies, she always thanked him with a kiss. Their lips met, close-mouthed at first, and his hands would go to her shoulders to push her away. But then they would both relax. His mouth would open, tentatively at first, and then their tongues would meet.
Elizabeth used her middle and ring fingers to stroke herself as she imagined it. Jack O'Neill pushing her back against the desk she had just given up to him. Letting him kiss down her neck as she fumbled with his belt. Pushing her hand inside and gasping to feel how hard he was already. Then pulled back, kissing him again, keeping her eyes open as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Eager now, fully committed to this moment.
She imagined her suit pants shoved down. Her legs pushed apart as she guided his cock out into the cool air of the room. The door open behind him, the glass map on the far wall offering anyone in the briefing room a front row seat of their debauchery.
Elizabeth circled her clit and imagined it was the head of Jack's erection. Teasing her before sliding down to push her open with it. She imagined the size and shape of his cock; the blunt head with its blunt head and long, thick shaft. She imagined it would be dark, but the part just under the head would be very pink. She licked her lips as she imagined Jack licking his palm and stroking himself so that he would be wet when he pushed inside her.
In her fantasy, Major... no, Colonel Carter was the one watching. That was something else she only allowed herself in fantasies. The women. The beautiful women who crossed her paths but remained forever out of bounds. The fantasy of Sam was in the doorway, trying to stay out of sight, her fingers curled against the doorframe with the back of her hand against her cheek. Elizabeth pictured the curve of Sam's breasts in that tight black T-shirt she wore. She imagined Sam's hand in the crotch of her green camo pants, rubbing herself as she watched Jack.
Elizabeth imagined being lowered to the desk - her things fortunately all placed in boxes. She brought her hands up and hooked her fingers on the edge of the desk (she lifted her hand and gripped the top of her pillow as she inserted two fingers) as Jack pushed into her. Sam was suddenly in the room and Elizabeth tried to imagine her naked. Full breasts, flat stomach, shaved between her legs. Both fantasy and reality Elizabeth licked her lips at the sight, her cheeks red as she moaned and lifted her hips against her hand.
When she came, Fantasy Jack had just started to thrust into her and Fantasy Sam was kissing Elizabeth's hand. In her mind, the moisture on her fingertips was from Sam kissing and sucking them while she watched Jack fuck her. Elizabeth arched her back and came quietly. She released her pillow and pressed her free hand against her cheek, feeling the heat as she bit her pinkie.
Her body sank back to the mattress, her lower body even more tangled in the blankets than it had been when she woke up. She caught her breath, blinking at the ceiling as the fantasy faded. Her heart rate returned to normal and she pushed her hair out of her face and licked her lips. Her nipples were still erect, and moving caused her top to brush against them in a not-entirely unpleasant way.
She pushed back the blankets and looked toward her private bathroom, wondering if she had time for a long shower before--
"Doctor Weir?"
She closed her eyes and smiled ruefully. She picked up the receiver from her nightstand, hooked it over her ear, and tapped it to turn it on. "Yes, Rodney, what is it?"
"I hope I didn't wake you. It's, ah, quite early and I know that--"
"I was awake, Rodney. Can whatever it is wait until I've had a chance to shower?"
"Oh! Of course. Ah, it's... yes. Nothing that can't wait ten or fifteen minutes."
"Thank you. Weir out."
She looked toward the open window. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, smiling as she inhaled the salty sea air. Sometimes all it took was one good morning to revitalize everything. Elizabeth got out of bed and went to take a quick shower before she investigated Rodney McKay's latest teapot tempest.
McKay, she thought as she undressed for the shower. He could be abrasive at times, but... there were certain possibilities.
She smiled as she stepped into the stall. Maybe she would take a long shower after all.
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Self-Lover: Elizabeth Weir
Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/Jack O'Neill/Sam Carter (fantasy)
Spoilers: General series info
Words: 1,427
Date: Day 17
Requested by return2zero! Thank you SO much for requesting Weir. I don't think I ever would have written this if you hadn't, and Weir definitely needs more love. Even if it is self-inflicted. ~g~ The poll to suggest future pairings/stories
Summary: The days on Atlantis were longer, but Elizabeth couldn't tell.
Her mind boggled at the sheer range of responsibilities required of her. She could spend three hours drafting a treaty with a group of settlers on a faraway planet, then eat lunch in a massive cathedral of glass and stone while looking out on an alien sea, and then she would spend twenty minutes settling a squabble between two groups of scientists. She was the foremost diplomat in the world - maybe the foremost human diplomat in the entire universe - and sometimes she felt like a kindergarten teacher.
Then there were the day-to-day things. Her adjutant, God bless her soul, compiled the more mundane supply lists, but it was Elizabeth's responsibility to sign off on them. She could go from finessing the wording of a concession speech that would help them survive another year, and then she would be forced to justify including seventeen boxes of Frootees in the next shipment of supplies.
Scientists were annoyed at the military. The military was irritated at the scientists. They all came to her for mediation. Elizabeth often soothed nerves while on her way to the restroom, had often moderated arguments over her headset while she was changing clothes. Not dressing for the day; just changing from one set of the clothes to the next. Her days often blended together, but something in her head forced her to change clothes after eighteen hours.
When she had a few minutes to breathe, she often stayed in her office and played computer Solitaire. She rarely made it through a single game without an interruption, which made her glad she hadn't gone off to do something more daunting like trying to bathe or eat.
One morning she woke up in her bed and stared at the wall, her hand under the pillow, and tried to figure out what felt wrong. The air was perfectly cool thanks to the open window. She loved the smell of the air washing over the sea. She rolled onto her back and pushed her blankets down to her waist. She wore a silk tank top and sweatpants, her toes curling under the blankets as she tensed and relaxed her muscles to stretch them with the least amount of movement required.
Then she realized what the strangeness was. No alarm. No call. No one saying her name to pull her from slumber. She had long ago fallen out of the habit of setting an alarm clock, so she'd actually been able to sleep until her body woke up. It was a strange feeling. The day she climbed into Vice President Kinsey's limousine, her life had made a change for the sleepless. She didn't mind. She preferred moving to sleeping anyway.
But she had to admit, this was nice. To be in bed, to be able to lie there for a few minutes and just enjoy being rested. She stretched her arms over her head and then lowered them, dragging her fingers lightly over the curve of her breast. There was another luxury she hadn't had the time or inclination to indulge since coming to Atlantis. She cleared her throat, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes as she put her hand into her sweatpants.
She scrolled through her list of fantasies like they were on a Rolodex. Simon? No. Nothing against the man, but she had been with him enough in real life. The whole point of fantasizing was to explore the unknown in the safety of her subconscious. She thought back to when she was first brought into the Stargate Program. General Jack O'Neill.
Oh, that could do nicely. She began to stroke herself through her underwear as she remembered him in her office, watching while she packed up. Her thanking him for everything he had done for the planet. It had never occurred to her in the moment, but in her fantasies, she always thanked him with a kiss. Their lips met, close-mouthed at first, and his hands would go to her shoulders to push her away. But then they would both relax. His mouth would open, tentatively at first, and then their tongues would meet.
Elizabeth used her middle and ring fingers to stroke herself as she imagined it. Jack O'Neill pushing her back against the desk she had just given up to him. Letting him kiss down her neck as she fumbled with his belt. Pushing her hand inside and gasping to feel how hard he was already. Then pulled back, kissing him again, keeping her eyes open as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Eager now, fully committed to this moment.
She imagined her suit pants shoved down. Her legs pushed apart as she guided his cock out into the cool air of the room. The door open behind him, the glass map on the far wall offering anyone in the briefing room a front row seat of their debauchery.
Elizabeth circled her clit and imagined it was the head of Jack's erection. Teasing her before sliding down to push her open with it. She imagined the size and shape of his cock; the blunt head with its blunt head and long, thick shaft. She imagined it would be dark, but the part just under the head would be very pink. She licked her lips as she imagined Jack licking his palm and stroking himself so that he would be wet when he pushed inside her.
In her fantasy, Major... no, Colonel Carter was the one watching. That was something else she only allowed herself in fantasies. The women. The beautiful women who crossed her paths but remained forever out of bounds. The fantasy of Sam was in the doorway, trying to stay out of sight, her fingers curled against the doorframe with the back of her hand against her cheek. Elizabeth pictured the curve of Sam's breasts in that tight black T-shirt she wore. She imagined Sam's hand in the crotch of her green camo pants, rubbing herself as she watched Jack.
Elizabeth imagined being lowered to the desk - her things fortunately all placed in boxes. She brought her hands up and hooked her fingers on the edge of the desk (she lifted her hand and gripped the top of her pillow as she inserted two fingers) as Jack pushed into her. Sam was suddenly in the room and Elizabeth tried to imagine her naked. Full breasts, flat stomach, shaved between her legs. Both fantasy and reality Elizabeth licked her lips at the sight, her cheeks red as she moaned and lifted her hips against her hand.
When she came, Fantasy Jack had just started to thrust into her and Fantasy Sam was kissing Elizabeth's hand. In her mind, the moisture on her fingertips was from Sam kissing and sucking them while she watched Jack fuck her. Elizabeth arched her back and came quietly. She released her pillow and pressed her free hand against her cheek, feeling the heat as she bit her pinkie.
Her body sank back to the mattress, her lower body even more tangled in the blankets than it had been when she woke up. She caught her breath, blinking at the ceiling as the fantasy faded. Her heart rate returned to normal and she pushed her hair out of her face and licked her lips. Her nipples were still erect, and moving caused her top to brush against them in a not-entirely unpleasant way.
She pushed back the blankets and looked toward her private bathroom, wondering if she had time for a long shower before--
"Doctor Weir?"
She closed her eyes and smiled ruefully. She picked up the receiver from her nightstand, hooked it over her ear, and tapped it to turn it on. "Yes, Rodney, what is it?"
"I hope I didn't wake you. It's, ah, quite early and I know that--"
"I was awake, Rodney. Can whatever it is wait until I've had a chance to shower?"
"Oh! Of course. Ah, it's... yes. Nothing that can't wait ten or fifteen minutes."
"Thank you. Weir out."
She looked toward the open window. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, smiling as she inhaled the salty sea air. Sometimes all it took was one good morning to revitalize everything. Elizabeth got out of bed and went to take a quick shower before she investigated Rodney McKay's latest teapot tempest.
McKay, she thought as she undressed for the shower. He could be abrasive at times, but... there were certain possibilities.
She smiled as she stepped into the stall. Maybe she would take a long shower after all.