Fic: Dazzling Blue
Title: Dazzling Blue
Series: The Goddamned Genderswap
Summary: It only makes John want one thing.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 3145
Rating/Contents: NC-17, set during 2x08 (Conversion), blue!John (complete with blue!sex), possessive behavior, bondage
Pairing: John/Mer
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: You know, I really haven't written much blue!John, despite how dearly I do love him. Something's hot about him being a bug, idk.
It's a late morning- not exactly a lazy one, not with the way John and Meredith have been fucking all the way through it, but John's on light duty until they figure out what's wrong with him and the morning's meeting was canceled, so it's not like there's anything else they should be doing.
It's only been about ten minutes since John came, but he's already feeling like it's time to go again. Normally his back gets sore or he can only get it up once or maybe twice, his body reminding him how close to forty he is, but he's in rare form this morning, apparently. He could stay here all day and do this, do Mer, just keep going at it until he wrecked her.
There's really nothing he wants to do more.
He reaches for her again, sliding his fingers down between her thighs, to where she's wet and slick for him, from him, but she pushes him away, groaning. "No."
John can't even begin to believe what he's hearing. "No?"
"No, John," she says, getting up and reaching for her robe. "I do have a job to do around here, as you may have noticed. Aren't you supposed to be running with Ronon or getting beaten by Teyla or something?"
"C'mon," he says. "Just one more, I promise."
Mer snorts. "If you bring that thing near me again, I'm going to snap it off."
"It'll only take a minute," he cajoles, getting up from the bed and stepping towards her.
Now she's actually annoyed, her lips pursed in displeasure. "I said no, John."
It's so easy to catch her by the shoulders and drive her back against the wall, almost knocking the wind out of her. "I said yes," he says, and his grin is feral and wide. She's his, and he's going to have her, no matter what she thinks of it right now.
All of a sudden, everything lurches, and it isn't funny or sexy anymore. Meredith's eyes are wide and terrified and so blue, and John lets her go as fast as he can, suddenly cognizant of what he was about to do to her.
"Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary," the PA squawks, before John can make any excuses or even figure out what the hell just happened.
He takes a step back. "You okay?" he says, and his voice is small and broken.
"Get- get out of here," Meredith says, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. "I can't do this right now."
John nods, and then he gets the hell away from her before he can do anything worse. He doesn't go back after he sees Cait, unsure what he's done, unsure what he should do.
And then he's got bigger things to worry about.
--
Mer is staying out the medical side of it, Mer doesn't know what to do, Mer doesn't know enough about the retrovirus or the inhibitor to be of any use.
She sits in her lab scouring the database instead, looking for any sign, any possible clue as to how to deal with these fucking bugs. She goes on the mission, because there's just not another option.
--
It's dark in John's room when Elizabeth steps in, and everything he has to say scares her, makes her hate what Pegasus is doing to them just a little more, the chain reaction clusterfuck that the Ancients set in motion and they've continued.
"Meredith's been asking if she can see you when she comes back," she says softly, because she doesn't know what else to say to try and comfort him. "Should I tell her it's okay?"
"Oh yeah, sure, that's a great idea, send her on in," he rasps, turning his twisted blue face towards her, and she gasps. He leans forward, licking his lips. "You wanna hear what I'm going to do to her when she gets here?" He looks away from Elizabeth's sick, shocked look. "Get out of here. Increase the security detail. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Elizabeth leaves without accomplishing anything at all.
--
They all absolutely fuck the mission up.
At least they all fuck it up together; no matter how much it feels like it, this won't be all Meredith's fault.
--
And then John breaks out.
She's kind of zoned out, lost in searching the database again, looking for any other possible way to turn this around. "We have a lock," Zelenka is saying through the radio, but it's gotten really easy to ignore him.
"Get a team around McKay," Caldwell snaps, and she looks up, perplexed; it's only maybe a minute before Ronon and a bunch of Marines come in and literally grab her, shuffling her off down a little-used hallway.
"What the hell-" Mer says, trailing behind them; Ronon suddenly stops, holding up a hand.
"We lost containment," Teyla says quietly. "Colonel Sheppard is somewhere in Atlantis."
Her eyes widen, but before she can say anything the radio beeps. "Caldwell to Ronon."
"What?" Ronon snaps.
Meredith swears she can hear Caldwell roll his eyes through the radio. "Sheppard is on the move again."
"Got it," he says, nodding to Teyla and the soldiers.
She suddenly realizes that they're not going anywhere. "Wait, you think he's coming after me?"
Ronon looks at her like she's an idiot. "Where else would he go?"
Now that Mer actually thinks about it, it makes frightening sense. "I really hate having to say this," she says, pressing her hand to her forehead, "and I'm going to regret it in about ten minutes, but I have an idea."
--
His city, his city is always amazing, but it's better, he didn't know how much better it could be, there are dimensions to it he never even imagined, scent and shadow, walls and ceilings to climb, new places to hide, to conquer.
But first he's going to find her and finish what he started.
Tracking her is so simple, tracking her is child's play, when the scent and the taste of her is emblazoned on his memory, was even before the change. He snorts, trying to get the dark green smell of Elizabeth's fear out of his nose so he can focus on nothing else. Meredith's trail is a bright blue line, cutting a wide swath through the corridors. It spreads out from the door of his room, a tree that he can see growing across his entire city, but it doesn't take much to pick up where it's the strongest, where she's just come through.
She smells worried. He can make it all better, because once he has her she won't have to be scared anymore. He can make her like him, he knows he can, and that's all he really wants. Everyone else can leave them alone then.
He won't give them another choice.
He's getting closer and closer, the scent is getting stronger and stronger. There are others laid in with it, the thick red smell of Ronon, but they fan out and away, and John would be more worried if he wasn't so close to getting what he needs.
He rounds a corner, and she's standing at the end of the hallway, completely unguarded.
Orange warning flares explode in the tiny lucid fragments of his mind. It's a trap, it's such a trap, it couldn't be worse if they had a net or a box or a whole pit full of punji sticks. He's not listening, he's not listening, the need to have her is overwhelming, crowding out everything else.
He bounds down the hallway, his talons clacking loudly against the floor, and then he's right up on her, pressing his face into her neck so he can breathe her in. His claws rip easily through her shirt, but he just keeps from breaking her skin, even though he's grabbing at her hard. Just as soon as he can decide where, he's going to bite her, scratch her open, whatever it takes to make her his, to make her see reason.
The blast from Ronon's pistol catches him square in the back.
"Great freakin' plan," Meredith says to herself, pinned to the floor by John's weight. "Somebody get him off of me," she calls, "and get me a goddamned t-shirt."
The strike force appears out of the woodwork, and someone helpfully hands her a jacket that's about two sizes too small. Ronon levers John up onto his shoulders, and Meredith takes the opportunity to just lay there a minute, completely exhausted from fear, her head resting on the floor. Ronon looks at her curiously, upside down. "That was the scariest thing I've done in a really long time," she says, panting.
"You said that three hours ago when we were headed back from the cave," he points out.
"Then it's the scariest thing I've done in three hours," she says. She struggles backwards into the jacket before she lets one of the Marines give her a hand up. She taps her headset. "McKay to Beckett. We're headed your way now."
--
When Elizabeth tells her it's time to say goodbye, Meredith can't even say anything.
She wants to keep it together, she really does; but then Teyla wraps an arm around her shoulders and it all comes rushing out. Ronon looks uncomfortable, but he takes her hand into his anyway, running his thumb over her knuckles.
--
And then Cait is brilliant and they're all terrified but they don't fuck it up this time.
They're starting to get good at that; thank heaven for small mercies.
--
He's in a medically-induced coma for a week and heavily sedated after that; it's maybe two before he's even vaguely aware of what's going on around him. He can still kind of smell colors- the eggshell white of Cait all around him, Caldwell's deep purple lancing through now and again- and there's that bright blue beside him, comforting him.
It's slow, but he's getting better, little by little, a little less bug and a little more John, a little closer to talking and standing and getting out of these damn restraints.
He doesn't know what time it is or what day it is, but he wakes up feeling better, clearer. Someone is talking beside his bed, and he manages to turn his head and look.
"I swear to god, Sheppard," Mer is saying, "if you don't fucking man up and get better, I'm going to kill you myself." She swipes angrily at the corners of her eyes, and if anyone suggested it was because she was crying, she'd punch them in the face.
"Mrrr," John manages to say softly.
Meredith jumps about a foot in her chair. "Oh, thank god," she says fervently. "Are you okay? What do you need? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"
He thinks about it, trying to figure out how to express what he wants. He wiggles a little in his restraints. "Ishy."
"What?" she says, puzzled, before she gets it. "Oh, right, yeah, I bet you are, aren't you?"
She keeps her fingernails a little long, the better to pick at crystal trays and tiny screws, and they feel amazing raking gently across John's skin, sloughing off the chitinous blue scales as they go. She finds out all the spots that are making him insane- along his neck, up underneath the cuffs, down in the crease where his legs and torso meet.
When she holds up her hands, the tips of her fingernails are bright blue, and she stares at them in fascination. "Now that is incredibly disturbing." She fussily wipes them with an alcohol pad, getting every last bit cleaned off, and John just has to laugh at her, as best he can.
When she's done, she strokes a comforting hand across his belly. "Any better?"
He nods, before raising his hips at her hopefully, just to fuck with her. "Hrrny?"
She rolls her eyes. "Not that this isn't all weirdly hot, in a questionable erotic sci-fi kind of a way, but I think I'll pass." He gives her his best and most pitiful pout, the one that always gets her even when all his other cajoling looks have failed. "That face would be so much more effective if you weren't blue and scaly," she tells him. "And if you have the presence of mind to grovel for sex, then you're fine," she says, but she's smiling widely.
It looks beautiful.
It's another day or two later- he thinks- and it's probably night, because there's nobody in the infirmary. He's getting to where he can lean up from the table and look at people as they approach, and he slides up on his elbows as someone walks in.
"It's just me," she says, standing at the side of the bed, cupping his face in her hand.
"Mrr," he says, rubbing his cheek against her palm.
She looks a little worried; she's glancing around a lot, as if she's concerned about someone seeing her. "Listen," she says quietly. "You're in there, right? I mean, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be roaming the halls or anything, but you're lucid, right?"
He gives her a strange look, unsure where she's going with this. "Ysss." He waves his hand a little. "Ysss, Jnnn, ysss."
"Good," she says, moving her hand down his blue arm, studying how her skin looks against his. "Because I thought if you were still-"
"Ishy?" he says hopefully, because there are brand new parts of him that need scratching now.
"The other thing."
His eyes go wide, because he had no idea she'd actually go for it. "Mmmm," he says, nodding fervently, rocking his hips up. "Mrr, mmmm. Ysss ysss."
"God, I can't believe I'm thinking about doing this," she says, sliding the isolation doors to and pulling the curtains shut; she picks up her tablet, doing something with it that John can't discern. "Cameras are off, but it needs to be fast and absolutely silent." She looks down at him, pulling off her pants. "I guess that's not a problem for you, really. I'll make a note for myself."
Somehow she manages to get up onto the bed and on top of him, despite the fact that there isn't any room. She doesn't make any move to undo his restraints, which is both very smart and kinda hot, so John approves. "God, Cait's going to kill me," she murmurs, sliding his scrub pants down over his hips.
He honestly hasn't gotten much of a chance to look at himself since he changed, and it's very disconcerting to see that he's apparently got bumps and ridges where there were no bumps before; it's very blue, enough that it doesn't look human- though it does look quite happy to see her. Mer just bites her lip when she looks at it, like she can't wait to get it inside of her, like it's even better than she expected.
She was obviously lying when she said those Japanese porn videos were just for laughs.
She produces a condom from her jacket pocket, tearing it open and rolling it on, and John makes a sound of protest. "Stop that," she snaps. "God only knows what sequelae there might be from half-bug sex. So help me god, if I get knocked up with a- a whatever the fuck-" She's too distracted to keep talking, because then she's pushing down around him.
"Oh my god," she says, arching her back, riding him slowly, her head thrown back. "Jesus Christ, if I'd have known-"
"Shhhh," John says, even as he's pushing up into her, wanting to hear more. "Mmmm, shhhh."
Being blue and scaly is apparently not an impediment when it comes to sex, or maybe it's just that it's been a couple of weeks at this point, but it feels amazing. He can't move against the restraints, but that doesn't seem to matter much, not when Mer is going wild on top of him. He can't do anything but let her have him; he's totally fixed by her, pinned in more ways than one.
It's kind of how he feels all the time.
"Mrr," he says urgently, just barely holding off, "plsss, Mrr, ysss, Mrr," and she grinds down on him and comes, sending him right over after her.
She climbs off with some difficulty, making a hissing noise as he pulls out of her. The condom is blue when she pulls it off, and it's so bizarre that John cracks up, his laughter high and scratchy. "Oh my god, what am I even going to do with this?" she says, staring at it in fascinated revulsion before wrapping it up in a tissue and shoving it into her pocket, pulling John's pants back up.
There's a noise from outside, and Mer jumps back into her pants at record speed, zipping them up hastily, just in time for Cait to push the doors open. "What's going on in here?" she says disapprovingly. "I'll not have you keeping my patient up."
"I wasn't," Mer protests.
"Nnnn," John adds. He puts his head down on the pillow illustratively. "Jnnn slllp."
Cait purses her lips. "You're not helping," she tells him, "though I can't say I'm not glad to hear you trying to speak. But both of you need to go to bed, or I won't hesitate to drug either of you."
Mer puts her hand on his head, ruffling through his hair, giving him a secretive smile. "Good night, Colonel," she says, just so she doesn't have an angry Scot on her hands.
"Mrr," John hums politely.
Cait looks at them both skeptically, glaring a little at Mer as she leaves, but she says nothing.
Mer's grin lasts all the way back to her room.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/353517.html.
comments over there.
Series: The Goddamned Genderswap
Summary: It only makes John want one thing.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 3145
Rating/Contents: NC-17, set during 2x08 (Conversion), blue!John (complete with blue!sex), possessive behavior, bondage
Pairing: John/Mer
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: You know, I really haven't written much blue!John, despite how dearly I do love him. Something's hot about him being a bug, idk.
It's a late morning- not exactly a lazy one, not with the way John and Meredith have been fucking all the way through it, but John's on light duty until they figure out what's wrong with him and the morning's meeting was canceled, so it's not like there's anything else they should be doing.
It's only been about ten minutes since John came, but he's already feeling like it's time to go again. Normally his back gets sore or he can only get it up once or maybe twice, his body reminding him how close to forty he is, but he's in rare form this morning, apparently. He could stay here all day and do this, do Mer, just keep going at it until he wrecked her.
There's really nothing he wants to do more.
He reaches for her again, sliding his fingers down between her thighs, to where she's wet and slick for him, from him, but she pushes him away, groaning. "No."
John can't even begin to believe what he's hearing. "No?"
"No, John," she says, getting up and reaching for her robe. "I do have a job to do around here, as you may have noticed. Aren't you supposed to be running with Ronon or getting beaten by Teyla or something?"
"C'mon," he says. "Just one more, I promise."
Mer snorts. "If you bring that thing near me again, I'm going to snap it off."
"It'll only take a minute," he cajoles, getting up from the bed and stepping towards her.
Now she's actually annoyed, her lips pursed in displeasure. "I said no, John."
It's so easy to catch her by the shoulders and drive her back against the wall, almost knocking the wind out of her. "I said yes," he says, and his grin is feral and wide. She's his, and he's going to have her, no matter what she thinks of it right now.
All of a sudden, everything lurches, and it isn't funny or sexy anymore. Meredith's eyes are wide and terrified and so blue, and John lets her go as fast as he can, suddenly cognizant of what he was about to do to her.
"Colonel Sheppard, please report to the infirmary," the PA squawks, before John can make any excuses or even figure out what the hell just happened.
He takes a step back. "You okay?" he says, and his voice is small and broken.
"Get- get out of here," Meredith says, wrapping her robe tightly around herself. "I can't do this right now."
John nods, and then he gets the hell away from her before he can do anything worse. He doesn't go back after he sees Cait, unsure what he's done, unsure what he should do.
And then he's got bigger things to worry about.
--
Mer is staying out the medical side of it, Mer doesn't know what to do, Mer doesn't know enough about the retrovirus or the inhibitor to be of any use.
She sits in her lab scouring the database instead, looking for any sign, any possible clue as to how to deal with these fucking bugs. She goes on the mission, because there's just not another option.
--
It's dark in John's room when Elizabeth steps in, and everything he has to say scares her, makes her hate what Pegasus is doing to them just a little more, the chain reaction clusterfuck that the Ancients set in motion and they've continued.
"Meredith's been asking if she can see you when she comes back," she says softly, because she doesn't know what else to say to try and comfort him. "Should I tell her it's okay?"
"Oh yeah, sure, that's a great idea, send her on in," he rasps, turning his twisted blue face towards her, and she gasps. He leans forward, licking his lips. "You wanna hear what I'm going to do to her when she gets here?" He looks away from Elizabeth's sick, shocked look. "Get out of here. Increase the security detail. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Elizabeth leaves without accomplishing anything at all.
--
They all absolutely fuck the mission up.
At least they all fuck it up together; no matter how much it feels like it, this won't be all Meredith's fault.
--
And then John breaks out.
She's kind of zoned out, lost in searching the database again, looking for any other possible way to turn this around. "We have a lock," Zelenka is saying through the radio, but it's gotten really easy to ignore him.
"Get a team around McKay," Caldwell snaps, and she looks up, perplexed; it's only maybe a minute before Ronon and a bunch of Marines come in and literally grab her, shuffling her off down a little-used hallway.
"What the hell-" Mer says, trailing behind them; Ronon suddenly stops, holding up a hand.
"We lost containment," Teyla says quietly. "Colonel Sheppard is somewhere in Atlantis."
Her eyes widen, but before she can say anything the radio beeps. "Caldwell to Ronon."
"What?" Ronon snaps.
Meredith swears she can hear Caldwell roll his eyes through the radio. "Sheppard is on the move again."
"Got it," he says, nodding to Teyla and the soldiers.
She suddenly realizes that they're not going anywhere. "Wait, you think he's coming after me?"
Ronon looks at her like she's an idiot. "Where else would he go?"
Now that Mer actually thinks about it, it makes frightening sense. "I really hate having to say this," she says, pressing her hand to her forehead, "and I'm going to regret it in about ten minutes, but I have an idea."
--
His city, his city is always amazing, but it's better, he didn't know how much better it could be, there are dimensions to it he never even imagined, scent and shadow, walls and ceilings to climb, new places to hide, to conquer.
But first he's going to find her and finish what he started.
Tracking her is so simple, tracking her is child's play, when the scent and the taste of her is emblazoned on his memory, was even before the change. He snorts, trying to get the dark green smell of Elizabeth's fear out of his nose so he can focus on nothing else. Meredith's trail is a bright blue line, cutting a wide swath through the corridors. It spreads out from the door of his room, a tree that he can see growing across his entire city, but it doesn't take much to pick up where it's the strongest, where she's just come through.
She smells worried. He can make it all better, because once he has her she won't have to be scared anymore. He can make her like him, he knows he can, and that's all he really wants. Everyone else can leave them alone then.
He won't give them another choice.
He's getting closer and closer, the scent is getting stronger and stronger. There are others laid in with it, the thick red smell of Ronon, but they fan out and away, and John would be more worried if he wasn't so close to getting what he needs.
He rounds a corner, and she's standing at the end of the hallway, completely unguarded.
Orange warning flares explode in the tiny lucid fragments of his mind. It's a trap, it's such a trap, it couldn't be worse if they had a net or a box or a whole pit full of punji sticks. He's not listening, he's not listening, the need to have her is overwhelming, crowding out everything else.
He bounds down the hallway, his talons clacking loudly against the floor, and then he's right up on her, pressing his face into her neck so he can breathe her in. His claws rip easily through her shirt, but he just keeps from breaking her skin, even though he's grabbing at her hard. Just as soon as he can decide where, he's going to bite her, scratch her open, whatever it takes to make her his, to make her see reason.
The blast from Ronon's pistol catches him square in the back.
"Great freakin' plan," Meredith says to herself, pinned to the floor by John's weight. "Somebody get him off of me," she calls, "and get me a goddamned t-shirt."
The strike force appears out of the woodwork, and someone helpfully hands her a jacket that's about two sizes too small. Ronon levers John up onto his shoulders, and Meredith takes the opportunity to just lay there a minute, completely exhausted from fear, her head resting on the floor. Ronon looks at her curiously, upside down. "That was the scariest thing I've done in a really long time," she says, panting.
"You said that three hours ago when we were headed back from the cave," he points out.
"Then it's the scariest thing I've done in three hours," she says. She struggles backwards into the jacket before she lets one of the Marines give her a hand up. She taps her headset. "McKay to Beckett. We're headed your way now."
--
When Elizabeth tells her it's time to say goodbye, Meredith can't even say anything.
She wants to keep it together, she really does; but then Teyla wraps an arm around her shoulders and it all comes rushing out. Ronon looks uncomfortable, but he takes her hand into his anyway, running his thumb over her knuckles.
--
And then Cait is brilliant and they're all terrified but they don't fuck it up this time.
They're starting to get good at that; thank heaven for small mercies.
--
He's in a medically-induced coma for a week and heavily sedated after that; it's maybe two before he's even vaguely aware of what's going on around him. He can still kind of smell colors- the eggshell white of Cait all around him, Caldwell's deep purple lancing through now and again- and there's that bright blue beside him, comforting him.
It's slow, but he's getting better, little by little, a little less bug and a little more John, a little closer to talking and standing and getting out of these damn restraints.
He doesn't know what time it is or what day it is, but he wakes up feeling better, clearer. Someone is talking beside his bed, and he manages to turn his head and look.
"I swear to god, Sheppard," Mer is saying, "if you don't fucking man up and get better, I'm going to kill you myself." She swipes angrily at the corners of her eyes, and if anyone suggested it was because she was crying, she'd punch them in the face.
"Mrrr," John manages to say softly.
Meredith jumps about a foot in her chair. "Oh, thank god," she says fervently. "Are you okay? What do you need? Are you thirsty? Hungry?"
He thinks about it, trying to figure out how to express what he wants. He wiggles a little in his restraints. "Ishy."
"What?" she says, puzzled, before she gets it. "Oh, right, yeah, I bet you are, aren't you?"
She keeps her fingernails a little long, the better to pick at crystal trays and tiny screws, and they feel amazing raking gently across John's skin, sloughing off the chitinous blue scales as they go. She finds out all the spots that are making him insane- along his neck, up underneath the cuffs, down in the crease where his legs and torso meet.
When she holds up her hands, the tips of her fingernails are bright blue, and she stares at them in fascination. "Now that is incredibly disturbing." She fussily wipes them with an alcohol pad, getting every last bit cleaned off, and John just has to laugh at her, as best he can.
When she's done, she strokes a comforting hand across his belly. "Any better?"
He nods, before raising his hips at her hopefully, just to fuck with her. "Hrrny?"
She rolls her eyes. "Not that this isn't all weirdly hot, in a questionable erotic sci-fi kind of a way, but I think I'll pass." He gives her his best and most pitiful pout, the one that always gets her even when all his other cajoling looks have failed. "That face would be so much more effective if you weren't blue and scaly," she tells him. "And if you have the presence of mind to grovel for sex, then you're fine," she says, but she's smiling widely.
It looks beautiful.
It's another day or two later- he thinks- and it's probably night, because there's nobody in the infirmary. He's getting to where he can lean up from the table and look at people as they approach, and he slides up on his elbows as someone walks in.
"It's just me," she says, standing at the side of the bed, cupping his face in her hand.
"Mrr," he says, rubbing his cheek against her palm.
She looks a little worried; she's glancing around a lot, as if she's concerned about someone seeing her. "Listen," she says quietly. "You're in there, right? I mean, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be roaming the halls or anything, but you're lucid, right?"
He gives her a strange look, unsure where she's going with this. "Ysss." He waves his hand a little. "Ysss, Jnnn, ysss."
"Good," she says, moving her hand down his blue arm, studying how her skin looks against his. "Because I thought if you were still-"
"Ishy?" he says hopefully, because there are brand new parts of him that need scratching now.
"The other thing."
His eyes go wide, because he had no idea she'd actually go for it. "Mmmm," he says, nodding fervently, rocking his hips up. "Mrr, mmmm. Ysss ysss."
"God, I can't believe I'm thinking about doing this," she says, sliding the isolation doors to and pulling the curtains shut; she picks up her tablet, doing something with it that John can't discern. "Cameras are off, but it needs to be fast and absolutely silent." She looks down at him, pulling off her pants. "I guess that's not a problem for you, really. I'll make a note for myself."
Somehow she manages to get up onto the bed and on top of him, despite the fact that there isn't any room. She doesn't make any move to undo his restraints, which is both very smart and kinda hot, so John approves. "God, Cait's going to kill me," she murmurs, sliding his scrub pants down over his hips.
He honestly hasn't gotten much of a chance to look at himself since he changed, and it's very disconcerting to see that he's apparently got bumps and ridges where there were no bumps before; it's very blue, enough that it doesn't look human- though it does look quite happy to see her. Mer just bites her lip when she looks at it, like she can't wait to get it inside of her, like it's even better than she expected.
She was obviously lying when she said those Japanese porn videos were just for laughs.
She produces a condom from her jacket pocket, tearing it open and rolling it on, and John makes a sound of protest. "Stop that," she snaps. "God only knows what sequelae there might be from half-bug sex. So help me god, if I get knocked up with a- a whatever the fuck-" She's too distracted to keep talking, because then she's pushing down around him.
"Oh my god," she says, arching her back, riding him slowly, her head thrown back. "Jesus Christ, if I'd have known-"
"Shhhh," John says, even as he's pushing up into her, wanting to hear more. "Mmmm, shhhh."
Being blue and scaly is apparently not an impediment when it comes to sex, or maybe it's just that it's been a couple of weeks at this point, but it feels amazing. He can't move against the restraints, but that doesn't seem to matter much, not when Mer is going wild on top of him. He can't do anything but let her have him; he's totally fixed by her, pinned in more ways than one.
It's kind of how he feels all the time.
"Mrr," he says urgently, just barely holding off, "plsss, Mrr, ysss, Mrr," and she grinds down on him and comes, sending him right over after her.
She climbs off with some difficulty, making a hissing noise as he pulls out of her. The condom is blue when she pulls it off, and it's so bizarre that John cracks up, his laughter high and scratchy. "Oh my god, what am I even going to do with this?" she says, staring at it in fascinated revulsion before wrapping it up in a tissue and shoving it into her pocket, pulling John's pants back up.
There's a noise from outside, and Mer jumps back into her pants at record speed, zipping them up hastily, just in time for Cait to push the doors open. "What's going on in here?" she says disapprovingly. "I'll not have you keeping my patient up."
"I wasn't," Mer protests.
"Nnnn," John adds. He puts his head down on the pillow illustratively. "Jnnn slllp."
Cait purses her lips. "You're not helping," she tells him, "though I can't say I'm not glad to hear you trying to speak. But both of you need to go to bed, or I won't hesitate to drug either of you."
Mer puts her hand on his head, ruffling through his hair, giving him a secretive smile. "Good night, Colonel," she says, just so she doesn't have an angry Scot on her hands.
"Mrr," John hums politely.
Cait looks at them both skeptically, glaring a little at Mer as she leaves, but she says nothing.
Mer's grin lasts all the way back to her room.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/353517.html.
comments over there.