Darkness Challenge: Affirmation by dannylurks
Title: Affirmation
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: The Storm/The Eye
Summary: Elizabeth has an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night.
Author’s notes: A huge thank you to the wonderful sjhw_tolerance whose advice and suggestions helped make this a much better story than it otherwise would have been. {{hugs}}
Affirmation
Lying in her bed, Elizabeth Weir accepted that sleep wouldn’t come. She had been foolish to think it might. After the attack by the Genii, there had been too much blood spilled, too much violence for her to just roll over and peacefully fall asleep. Two marines had lost their lives, Rodney and Carson were injured, more Genii dead than she wanted to think about.
Whenever she closed her eyes, another nightmarish image danced in front of her. Rodney standing in front of Kolya, willing to take a bullet for her; Carson supported by Teyla and Sora, blood pouring from his head; John thinking she was dead and taking his revenge on the Genii.
John aiming his P90 and firing.
Suddenly the door opened and she immediately sat up clutching the sheet to her chest, senses on full alert.
“It’s only me,” came the familiar voice, matched by the familiar tousle-haired silhouette outlined in the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”
“Not at all.”
Sheppard stepped forward and the door closed, plunging them into darkness. If it was strange for him to turn up in the middle of the night, she didn’t want to analyse it. The lure of human company to chase away the nightmares was too enticing.
“Let me get the light.”
“No,” he said quickly. “Leave it like this. I prefer it dark.”
A ghost of a smile twitched at her mouth. Just when she thought she was getting to know him, he’d say or do something that threw her off kilter. “Why? You can’t see anything.”
Soft footsteps padded across the room. “Exactly. I find it kind of comforting. Perhaps I think I’m back in the womb or something.” The bed dipped as he sat down.
The silence stretched between them. Her normal eloquence had deserted her at his close proximity. She could smell him, hear his breathing and the rustle of his clothes as he changed position. Her senses were on full alert, waiting. What for, she wasn’t sure. But then John Sheppard was never predictable.
“Why are you here?” she asked finally, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the darkness.
There was a long pause, then he muttered, “I needed… wanted… God… Elizabeth… I thought you were dead.” He touched her arm, then swiftly ran his hand up until he cradled the nape of her neck. Roughly, he pulled her towards him and kissed her, hard and hot, plunging his tongue into her mouth.
Elizabeth was momentarily stunned, but his heat and passion ignited something inside her and, as their tongues duelled and his hands explored her back, finding their way under her t-shirt, suddenly she knew without question what she wanted.
John Sheppard.
She needed to feel. She needed to forget.
She needed him… now.
Elizabeth tugged at his shirt, releasing it from his trousers, and fumbled with the buttons in her haste to undo them. “Let me,” he mumbled, pushing her hands away and pulling the shirt over his head. She felt the bed shift as he stood up and moments later there was the sound of clothing hitting the floor. She pulled off her t-shirt, kicked off her pyjama bottoms and waited impatiently, naked, and aching for his touch.
When he returned, he kissed her again and his hands found her breasts, teasing and pinching. She groaned and reached out, her hands meeting the warm skin and soft hairs on his chest, and something inside her melted at the feel of him.
John pushed her back onto the bed, kissing her hard and settling himself between her open thighs. Elizabeth pulled up her knees and tilted her hips, urging him on. Every nerve was on fire; she had never wanted anyone so much. She shivered at the feel of his rigid penis pressing into her stomach. God, she thought, he wants this as much as I do.
Breaking the kiss, he licked and sucked a line of fire down her neck and over her collarbone, until he reached her breasts. John teased and kissed her nipples until she was writhing in frustration under him. “I want you,” she breathed, grinding her hip against his arousal. He shuddered, and claimed her mouth in another bruising kiss.
He moved, positioning himself, his erection pushing against her opening. Under normal circumstances, she would have regretted the lack of foreplay, but not tonight. She wanted him inside her now - hard and fast. Just the primal coupling of man and woman, no tenderness or declarations of love - she knew under their current circumstances, that way lay madness.
John pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?” he whispered.
Logic told her she might regret this later, but for now? They had to prove they were alive. “I’m sure,” she replied.
He thrust hard and deep, and she gasped at the sudden feeling of fullness. Allowing her a moment to get used to the sensation, John paused, his breathing hoarse in the darkness, then he slowly began to move. It wasn’t long before they found an urgent rhythm, Elizabeth rising up to meet his thrusts. Soon she felt the familiar pressure building, could feel his movements becoming uneven, ragged, until with a violent shudder he found his release inside her. She followed him over the edge, her orgasm sharp and sudden.
They lay trembling in each other’s arms, gasping for breath. “God, Elizabeth,” he whispered, “that was…”
She put a finger to his lips. “I know,” she said, cutting him off. The last thing she wanted to hear was a declaration of love he’d regret later.
He rolled off her and came to rest by her side, his arm draped over her stomach. Elizabeth sighed contentedly.
She was alive, and so was he.
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: The Storm/The Eye
Summary: Elizabeth has an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night.
Author’s notes: A huge thank you to the wonderful sjhw_tolerance whose advice and suggestions helped make this a much better story than it otherwise would have been. {{hugs}}
Affirmation
Lying in her bed, Elizabeth Weir accepted that sleep wouldn’t come. She had been foolish to think it might. After the attack by the Genii, there had been too much blood spilled, too much violence for her to just roll over and peacefully fall asleep. Two marines had lost their lives, Rodney and Carson were injured, more Genii dead than she wanted to think about.
Whenever she closed her eyes, another nightmarish image danced in front of her. Rodney standing in front of Kolya, willing to take a bullet for her; Carson supported by Teyla and Sora, blood pouring from his head; John thinking she was dead and taking his revenge on the Genii.
John aiming his P90 and firing.
Suddenly the door opened and she immediately sat up clutching the sheet to her chest, senses on full alert.
“It’s only me,” came the familiar voice, matched by the familiar tousle-haired silhouette outlined in the doorway. “Mind if I come in?”
“Not at all.”
Sheppard stepped forward and the door closed, plunging them into darkness. If it was strange for him to turn up in the middle of the night, she didn’t want to analyse it. The lure of human company to chase away the nightmares was too enticing.
“Let me get the light.”
“No,” he said quickly. “Leave it like this. I prefer it dark.”
A ghost of a smile twitched at her mouth. Just when she thought she was getting to know him, he’d say or do something that threw her off kilter. “Why? You can’t see anything.”
Soft footsteps padded across the room. “Exactly. I find it kind of comforting. Perhaps I think I’m back in the womb or something.” The bed dipped as he sat down.
The silence stretched between them. Her normal eloquence had deserted her at his close proximity. She could smell him, hear his breathing and the rustle of his clothes as he changed position. Her senses were on full alert, waiting. What for, she wasn’t sure. But then John Sheppard was never predictable.
“Why are you here?” she asked finally, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the darkness.
There was a long pause, then he muttered, “I needed… wanted… God… Elizabeth… I thought you were dead.” He touched her arm, then swiftly ran his hand up until he cradled the nape of her neck. Roughly, he pulled her towards him and kissed her, hard and hot, plunging his tongue into her mouth.
Elizabeth was momentarily stunned, but his heat and passion ignited something inside her and, as their tongues duelled and his hands explored her back, finding their way under her t-shirt, suddenly she knew without question what she wanted.
John Sheppard.
She needed to feel. She needed to forget.
She needed him… now.
Elizabeth tugged at his shirt, releasing it from his trousers, and fumbled with the buttons in her haste to undo them. “Let me,” he mumbled, pushing her hands away and pulling the shirt over his head. She felt the bed shift as he stood up and moments later there was the sound of clothing hitting the floor. She pulled off her t-shirt, kicked off her pyjama bottoms and waited impatiently, naked, and aching for his touch.
When he returned, he kissed her again and his hands found her breasts, teasing and pinching. She groaned and reached out, her hands meeting the warm skin and soft hairs on his chest, and something inside her melted at the feel of him.
John pushed her back onto the bed, kissing her hard and settling himself between her open thighs. Elizabeth pulled up her knees and tilted her hips, urging him on. Every nerve was on fire; she had never wanted anyone so much. She shivered at the feel of his rigid penis pressing into her stomach. God, she thought, he wants this as much as I do.
Breaking the kiss, he licked and sucked a line of fire down her neck and over her collarbone, until he reached her breasts. John teased and kissed her nipples until she was writhing in frustration under him. “I want you,” she breathed, grinding her hip against his arousal. He shuddered, and claimed her mouth in another bruising kiss.
He moved, positioning himself, his erection pushing against her opening. Under normal circumstances, she would have regretted the lack of foreplay, but not tonight. She wanted him inside her now - hard and fast. Just the primal coupling of man and woman, no tenderness or declarations of love - she knew under their current circumstances, that way lay madness.
John pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard. “Are you sure, Elizabeth?” he whispered.
Logic told her she might regret this later, but for now? They had to prove they were alive. “I’m sure,” she replied.
He thrust hard and deep, and she gasped at the sudden feeling of fullness. Allowing her a moment to get used to the sensation, John paused, his breathing hoarse in the darkness, then he slowly began to move. It wasn’t long before they found an urgent rhythm, Elizabeth rising up to meet his thrusts. Soon she felt the familiar pressure building, could feel his movements becoming uneven, ragged, until with a violent shudder he found his release inside her. She followed him over the edge, her orgasm sharp and sudden.
They lay trembling in each other’s arms, gasping for breath. “God, Elizabeth,” he whispered, “that was…”
She put a finger to his lips. “I know,” she said, cutting him off. The last thing she wanted to hear was a declaration of love he’d regret later.
He rolled off her and came to rest by her side, his arm draped over her stomach. Elizabeth sighed contentedly.
She was alive, and so was he.