Bad Ideas (for qwirky)
Title: Bad Ideas
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: Most definitely Adult.
Spoilers: Minor (casting, name) spoilers through s.2.
Summary: "I'm tired of good ideas," she said, matching his whisper, and John closed his eyes against the soft warm huff of her breath on his ear. "Good ideas keep getting us tangled up. I want to try some bad ideas for a change."
Notes: PWP (mostly) for mah qwirky, who rocks like nobody's business.
It was an uneventful trip back from a dull and boring round of negotiations with the inhabitants of the planet they called Trewarileet. Elizabeth curled in the seat beside him, quiet for the moment. They'd discussed the negotiations until talking about them had become even more painful than experiencing them, and then switched to shop talk and gossip about Atlantis and its people. They'd talked about the fraternization that was becoming more and more commonplace as people settled in and started thinking of Atlantis as home, working out that they both thought it was inevitable and some bending of military and workplace rules would have to take place. And then they'd found themselves silently looking at one another and once again not discussing why. Bending the rules doesn't include lusting after the boss, John reminded himself, breaking eye contact. He decided to take a break from the relatively straightforward five hours of flying with a snack. Giving the mental equivalent of 'set for auto pilot', he leaned back in the chair and grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water.
"They think we're having sex, you know," Elizabeth said, quiet and steady. John choked, keeping his cursing internal, though he would have bet she timed it so that she said that when he was drinking.
"They also think Teyla and I are having sex," John said when he regained the ability to speak.
She shot him an amused glance out of the corner of her eyes. "And Rodney."
It would've started another round of sputtering, except he wasn't drinking...and he'd already heard the rumor. "And me and Carson, me and Radek, me and," and here he gave a twitch, "Ford... Apparently, I'm the slut of Atlantis," he offered.
Her smile was full blown and evil, now. "I'd say so, especially since the rumors of you and Ronon started making the rounds after your first 'observation' of his sparring practice." He did start sputtering at that, even without the water.
Elizabeth pounded his back, concern written on her face. "John?" she asked, leaning next to the chair.
"Warn a guy next time," he protested, collecting himself. He looked up at her. "Why are you telling me this?"
She smiled, and he gulped, wondering if the climate control was malfunctioning or if he was just having his usual reaction to Elizabeth in this mood. In most moods, really, but he was usually able to contain his reactions better.
Then again, she usually wasn't leaning in close to murmur in his ear. "I've been thinking on this since our return from Earth," she said, "and if we're going to suffer the consequences anyway, wouldn't you like to at least be able to enjoy the thing we're accused of?"
He inhaled sharply, the scent of her throwing off his attempt to clear his head. His body was already betraying him, reacting to her words and her proximity, and it was a struggle not to give in to his baser instincts and grab her, pull her in close and start doing one of the millions of things he'd fantasized about doing to her, ever since she skidded to a halt in the chair room back in Antarctica. "Elizabeth," he warned, voice low, not looking at her.
"What's it going to do, John? Cause us to argue more? Make me biased towards you?" As she spoke, she shifted against the chair, pushing it further away from the control console. John leaned against the chair back, gazing up at her, face stoic. She placed one hand on either armrest and settled there, staring coolly back at him. "Give me a reason not to do something stupid. Give me a reason why it's stupid."
"How about any ten reasons?" he said, quiet voice not doing much to hide the tension underneath. She just stared at him, waiting. "Like, it's a really bad idea. At least right now we have the luxury of denying the rumors and knowing we're telling the truth."
"But it doesn't change what we both want." And now he knew he was dead, because this was Dr. Elizabeth Weir, who brokered more treaties than just about anyone, who managed to create peace when both sides had wanted war.
He very much didn't want to say no to her. He knew she didn't want him to, either. He was so screwed. He might as well admit it.
"No, it doesn't. It still doesn't make it a good idea, though." The last words came out as a whisper as she leaned in, still not touching him, although he swore he could feel the heat from her body, and his hands ached to touch her.
"I'm tired of good ideas," she said, matching his whisper, and John closed his eyes against the soft warm huff of her breath on his ear. "Good ideas keep getting us tangled up. I want to try some bad ideas for a change."
"God, Elizabeth," he said. He still hadn't moved, still leaned back in a pose of relaxation so forced he thought he might shatter if pressed to keep it. She was straddling him now, one leg lifted over his own while he wasn't paying attention, still not touching him, eyes staring into his own and making him feel like she could read every thought there.
"If you want to go back to the way things were," she began, and trailed off, breaking eye contact and biting her lip. And suddenly he realized he didn't. He didn't want to go back to the studied indifference to her, to standing beside her pretending their proximity had no effect on him. He remembered how good the hug she'd given him had felt when the Daedalus had returned him to Atlantis, remembered the weird feeling of belonging and home, something he'd never quite had.
He could never turn his back on that, he realized, and he could never say no to Elizabeth. Not in the things that mattered. Before she could pull away, he reached out, grabbed her, one hand nestling in the small of her back while the other worked its way to her neck, pulling her close as he leaned up to kiss her. She pressed against him, warm and soft and inviting, and he groaned as she bit lightly on his lower lip. "Elizabeth," he said as she kissed down his cheek, along his jaw, and to his throat, nipping and soothing. She moved against him, drawing close and separating, the friction caused by clothes and bodies driving him wild. He arched up to meet her as she drew close, making her groan. Her face was flushed, eyes closed as she concentrated on her movements. He slid his hands under her shirt to stroke at the smooth skin of her back, fingers kneading and massaging. She made a soft needy sound, hips moving faster, and it hit him that he couldn't wait any longer, that he wanted their clothes gone. His fingers stopped their exploration and pulled at her shirt. Elizabeth lifted her arms to help him, then reached for his own shirt, stymieing his attempt to remove her bra. When his shirt cleared his head he grabbed her and pulled her close, kissing hard as his fingers worked the catch on her bra. Her eyes were fever bright as they broke the kiss, panting as she rocked against him, clothing doing little to hide the heat between them. He leaned in and kissed and nibbled a path to her breast, teasing her nipple with his lips and teeth and tongue, watching it tighten further and drinking in her cry of pleasure. His fingers worked the button of her pants, freeing it, and he reached around to slide hands down her back, under her panties and cupping the curves of her ass to pull her tighter against him.
She laughed, the unexpected movement against him making him dizzy, and he looked at her quizzically. She started to pull away but he caught her wrist, holding her.
"I think this would work better if we took our boots off, first," she said with a smile, and he grinned his agreement back at her. Separating, he fumbled with the laces of his boots, pulling them and his socks off and turning back at her, uncertain if he should remove his pants or not.
She stood naked before him, and his brain stuttered at the sight even as he automatically reached for his pants. He was only able to process nearer, nearer, as she closed the distance and put her hands on his. "Let me," she said.
"If you insist," he managed, and felt his lips curl into a smile that matched her own. He held still as she touched him, hands ghosting over his stomach, down to his pants. Her eyes were dark and seemed bigger than usual, and he concentrated on them instead of the sensations that were coming from her hands removing his clothes. After a moment he figured out why her eyes seemed larger: there were no filters in place, no shields keeping him at bay. He could feel his blood heat in a rush, and realized that his attempt at keeping his desire at a distance had failed.
When he finished stepping out of his pants, he leaned in and kissed her neck, wrapping his arm around her and losing himself in the feel of her flesh against his, soft smooth skin and the feel of heat and the whisper of her breath as she exhaled. He felt his way back into the chair, never breaking contact with her. She followed him willingly, only stumbling a little against him as he settled into the chair. She straddled him, not yet letting more than her knees and calves and hands touch him, pausing before leaning in to kiss him. His tongue teased hers as they kissed and she drew closer, little brushes of skin sending jolts of pleasure through him. And still there was too much space between them. He wanted to thrust up to meet her, to enter her in a rush, but instead trailed fingers along her back that made her shiver and gasp. She brushed against him again and he shifted, raising his hips so the contact was longer and less tentative, and the gasp became a moan.
"Elizabeth," he said, and she opened her eyes to meet his. He tried to tell her then of all the things he could never say, not in a way that touched on how he felt, and her expression became one of wonder as she nodded. She leaned in and kissed him hard, pulling back to stare at him wordlessly, expression open and unguarded as she slowly took him in. It was his turn to groan, fingers clenching on her back as the feel of her, hot and wet and tight around him. He traced a path up her back to her neck and pulled her in for a kiss as his other hand cupped her breast and his thumb teased her nipple. The noises she made urged him on, and he smiled as he kissed her once more, then nibbled at her lower lip, kissing down, fingers flicking lightly across the tightened bud of her nipple. His lips were tracing paths along her collarbone now, sucking lightly at the skin as he made his way down to her other breast. She was moving faster now, her breathing more ragged and one hand sliding from his hair down to his ear, outlining the edge of it. Her other hand lay on the back of his neck, fingers lightly circling as she encouraged him closer. He felt his orgasm edge closer and fought it, trying to mentally tally duty rosters, to consider how he'd handle a Wraith attack just at this moment, to consider McKay barging in and ruining the mood, anything. He thrust upwards with more force than before, biting as well as licking and teasing her nipple, and slid both hands to her shoulders before pulling away and up and kissing her again. Elizabeth kissed hard and wet and forceful, as though she were negotiating for her own peace and safety, and he moaned and clutched her, feeling her tense around him as her orgasm hit, holding back as long as he could before letting his own control break.
He was still gasping as he let the world back in, but kept it removed enough to keep stroking her, fingers of one hand tangling in her hair and palm cupping her cheek as his other hand caressed the length of her arm. He knew that soon he'd have to check to make sure he hadn't accidentally triggered something in the jumper, but for now he wanted to bask, to keep touching her, to indulge in the things he'd never allowed himself to do as her military leader. As he stroked her, he helped her shift and settle into a more comfortable postion curled in his lap, adding small kisses designed to pull noises of contentment out of her, drinking them in and filing them against the long days ahead when he'd have to push himself away, making himself remote again.
He wasn't looking forward to it.
For now, though, there was at least three more hours to travel. The jumper hummed around him, speeding on its preplotted course, and he made his own sigh of contentment, deciding to spend as much of it as possible naked with her.
"Hmmm?" she asked, picking up on his shift in mood.
He smiled, one hand absently twisting a curl of her hair around his fingers. "Just enjoying your bad ideas," he said, before leaning in for a lingering kiss.
~fin~
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: Most definitely Adult.
Spoilers: Minor (casting, name) spoilers through s.2.
Summary: "I'm tired of good ideas," she said, matching his whisper, and John closed his eyes against the soft warm huff of her breath on his ear. "Good ideas keep getting us tangled up. I want to try some bad ideas for a change."
Notes: PWP (mostly) for mah qwirky, who rocks like nobody's business.
It was an uneventful trip back from a dull and boring round of negotiations with the inhabitants of the planet they called Trewarileet. Elizabeth curled in the seat beside him, quiet for the moment. They'd discussed the negotiations until talking about them had become even more painful than experiencing them, and then switched to shop talk and gossip about Atlantis and its people. They'd talked about the fraternization that was becoming more and more commonplace as people settled in and started thinking of Atlantis as home, working out that they both thought it was inevitable and some bending of military and workplace rules would have to take place. And then they'd found themselves silently looking at one another and once again not discussing why. Bending the rules doesn't include lusting after the boss, John reminded himself, breaking eye contact. He decided to take a break from the relatively straightforward five hours of flying with a snack. Giving the mental equivalent of 'set for auto pilot', he leaned back in the chair and grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water.
"They think we're having sex, you know," Elizabeth said, quiet and steady. John choked, keeping his cursing internal, though he would have bet she timed it so that she said that when he was drinking.
"They also think Teyla and I are having sex," John said when he regained the ability to speak.
She shot him an amused glance out of the corner of her eyes. "And Rodney."
It would've started another round of sputtering, except he wasn't drinking...and he'd already heard the rumor. "And me and Carson, me and Radek, me and," and here he gave a twitch, "Ford... Apparently, I'm the slut of Atlantis," he offered.
Her smile was full blown and evil, now. "I'd say so, especially since the rumors of you and Ronon started making the rounds after your first 'observation' of his sparring practice." He did start sputtering at that, even without the water.
Elizabeth pounded his back, concern written on her face. "John?" she asked, leaning next to the chair.
"Warn a guy next time," he protested, collecting himself. He looked up at her. "Why are you telling me this?"
She smiled, and he gulped, wondering if the climate control was malfunctioning or if he was just having his usual reaction to Elizabeth in this mood. In most moods, really, but he was usually able to contain his reactions better.
Then again, she usually wasn't leaning in close to murmur in his ear. "I've been thinking on this since our return from Earth," she said, "and if we're going to suffer the consequences anyway, wouldn't you like to at least be able to enjoy the thing we're accused of?"
He inhaled sharply, the scent of her throwing off his attempt to clear his head. His body was already betraying him, reacting to her words and her proximity, and it was a struggle not to give in to his baser instincts and grab her, pull her in close and start doing one of the millions of things he'd fantasized about doing to her, ever since she skidded to a halt in the chair room back in Antarctica. "Elizabeth," he warned, voice low, not looking at her.
"What's it going to do, John? Cause us to argue more? Make me biased towards you?" As she spoke, she shifted against the chair, pushing it further away from the control console. John leaned against the chair back, gazing up at her, face stoic. She placed one hand on either armrest and settled there, staring coolly back at him. "Give me a reason not to do something stupid. Give me a reason why it's stupid."
"How about any ten reasons?" he said, quiet voice not doing much to hide the tension underneath. She just stared at him, waiting. "Like, it's a really bad idea. At least right now we have the luxury of denying the rumors and knowing we're telling the truth."
"But it doesn't change what we both want." And now he knew he was dead, because this was Dr. Elizabeth Weir, who brokered more treaties than just about anyone, who managed to create peace when both sides had wanted war.
He very much didn't want to say no to her. He knew she didn't want him to, either. He was so screwed. He might as well admit it.
"No, it doesn't. It still doesn't make it a good idea, though." The last words came out as a whisper as she leaned in, still not touching him, although he swore he could feel the heat from her body, and his hands ached to touch her.
"I'm tired of good ideas," she said, matching his whisper, and John closed his eyes against the soft warm huff of her breath on his ear. "Good ideas keep getting us tangled up. I want to try some bad ideas for a change."
"God, Elizabeth," he said. He still hadn't moved, still leaned back in a pose of relaxation so forced he thought he might shatter if pressed to keep it. She was straddling him now, one leg lifted over his own while he wasn't paying attention, still not touching him, eyes staring into his own and making him feel like she could read every thought there.
"If you want to go back to the way things were," she began, and trailed off, breaking eye contact and biting her lip. And suddenly he realized he didn't. He didn't want to go back to the studied indifference to her, to standing beside her pretending their proximity had no effect on him. He remembered how good the hug she'd given him had felt when the Daedalus had returned him to Atlantis, remembered the weird feeling of belonging and home, something he'd never quite had.
He could never turn his back on that, he realized, and he could never say no to Elizabeth. Not in the things that mattered. Before she could pull away, he reached out, grabbed her, one hand nestling in the small of her back while the other worked its way to her neck, pulling her close as he leaned up to kiss her. She pressed against him, warm and soft and inviting, and he groaned as she bit lightly on his lower lip. "Elizabeth," he said as she kissed down his cheek, along his jaw, and to his throat, nipping and soothing. She moved against him, drawing close and separating, the friction caused by clothes and bodies driving him wild. He arched up to meet her as she drew close, making her groan. Her face was flushed, eyes closed as she concentrated on her movements. He slid his hands under her shirt to stroke at the smooth skin of her back, fingers kneading and massaging. She made a soft needy sound, hips moving faster, and it hit him that he couldn't wait any longer, that he wanted their clothes gone. His fingers stopped their exploration and pulled at her shirt. Elizabeth lifted her arms to help him, then reached for his own shirt, stymieing his attempt to remove her bra. When his shirt cleared his head he grabbed her and pulled her close, kissing hard as his fingers worked the catch on her bra. Her eyes were fever bright as they broke the kiss, panting as she rocked against him, clothing doing little to hide the heat between them. He leaned in and kissed and nibbled a path to her breast, teasing her nipple with his lips and teeth and tongue, watching it tighten further and drinking in her cry of pleasure. His fingers worked the button of her pants, freeing it, and he reached around to slide hands down her back, under her panties and cupping the curves of her ass to pull her tighter against him.
She laughed, the unexpected movement against him making him dizzy, and he looked at her quizzically. She started to pull away but he caught her wrist, holding her.
"I think this would work better if we took our boots off, first," she said with a smile, and he grinned his agreement back at her. Separating, he fumbled with the laces of his boots, pulling them and his socks off and turning back at her, uncertain if he should remove his pants or not.
She stood naked before him, and his brain stuttered at the sight even as he automatically reached for his pants. He was only able to process nearer, nearer, as she closed the distance and put her hands on his. "Let me," she said.
"If you insist," he managed, and felt his lips curl into a smile that matched her own. He held still as she touched him, hands ghosting over his stomach, down to his pants. Her eyes were dark and seemed bigger than usual, and he concentrated on them instead of the sensations that were coming from her hands removing his clothes. After a moment he figured out why her eyes seemed larger: there were no filters in place, no shields keeping him at bay. He could feel his blood heat in a rush, and realized that his attempt at keeping his desire at a distance had failed.
When he finished stepping out of his pants, he leaned in and kissed her neck, wrapping his arm around her and losing himself in the feel of her flesh against his, soft smooth skin and the feel of heat and the whisper of her breath as she exhaled. He felt his way back into the chair, never breaking contact with her. She followed him willingly, only stumbling a little against him as he settled into the chair. She straddled him, not yet letting more than her knees and calves and hands touch him, pausing before leaning in to kiss him. His tongue teased hers as they kissed and she drew closer, little brushes of skin sending jolts of pleasure through him. And still there was too much space between them. He wanted to thrust up to meet her, to enter her in a rush, but instead trailed fingers along her back that made her shiver and gasp. She brushed against him again and he shifted, raising his hips so the contact was longer and less tentative, and the gasp became a moan.
"Elizabeth," he said, and she opened her eyes to meet his. He tried to tell her then of all the things he could never say, not in a way that touched on how he felt, and her expression became one of wonder as she nodded. She leaned in and kissed him hard, pulling back to stare at him wordlessly, expression open and unguarded as she slowly took him in. It was his turn to groan, fingers clenching on her back as the feel of her, hot and wet and tight around him. He traced a path up her back to her neck and pulled her in for a kiss as his other hand cupped her breast and his thumb teased her nipple. The noises she made urged him on, and he smiled as he kissed her once more, then nibbled at her lower lip, kissing down, fingers flicking lightly across the tightened bud of her nipple. His lips were tracing paths along her collarbone now, sucking lightly at the skin as he made his way down to her other breast. She was moving faster now, her breathing more ragged and one hand sliding from his hair down to his ear, outlining the edge of it. Her other hand lay on the back of his neck, fingers lightly circling as she encouraged him closer. He felt his orgasm edge closer and fought it, trying to mentally tally duty rosters, to consider how he'd handle a Wraith attack just at this moment, to consider McKay barging in and ruining the mood, anything. He thrust upwards with more force than before, biting as well as licking and teasing her nipple, and slid both hands to her shoulders before pulling away and up and kissing her again. Elizabeth kissed hard and wet and forceful, as though she were negotiating for her own peace and safety, and he moaned and clutched her, feeling her tense around him as her orgasm hit, holding back as long as he could before letting his own control break.
He was still gasping as he let the world back in, but kept it removed enough to keep stroking her, fingers of one hand tangling in her hair and palm cupping her cheek as his other hand caressed the length of her arm. He knew that soon he'd have to check to make sure he hadn't accidentally triggered something in the jumper, but for now he wanted to bask, to keep touching her, to indulge in the things he'd never allowed himself to do as her military leader. As he stroked her, he helped her shift and settle into a more comfortable postion curled in his lap, adding small kisses designed to pull noises of contentment out of her, drinking them in and filing them against the long days ahead when he'd have to push himself away, making himself remote again.
He wasn't looking forward to it.
For now, though, there was at least three more hours to travel. The jumper hummed around him, speeding on its preplotted course, and he made his own sigh of contentment, deciding to spend as much of it as possible naked with her.
"Hmmm?" she asked, picking up on his shift in mood.
He smiled, one hand absently twisting a curl of her hair around his fingers. "Just enjoying your bad ideas," he said, before leaning in for a lingering kiss.
~fin~