Fic: Never Enough (R)
Because I'm one of the callow, unenlightened, stupid fic writers infecting the internet with my het love. :p
Also I warn you, this is lame. It's sappy and possibly overly detailed and just... lame. However, it's what I have on hand to spread the het love across the intarwebz right now, so here 'tis.
Title: Never Enough
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Summary: They've waited long enough.
Pairings: Weir/Sheppard
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Wishful thinking?
Beta: None
Disclaimer: I do not own SGA or any of the characters. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: I was in the mood to write some happy reunion stuff with these two. Then there was a "bad sex cliche" thing that never seems to come up in fic that I worked in there.
John's heart is pounding. His palms are clammy. He feels like a teenager, which is utterly ridiculous. He's on the far side of forty, for heaven's sake, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, and an intergalactic explorer.
Touching a woman's bare skin should not be making him this crazy.
And it's just her back and she still has her shirt on.
He is a pathetic schoolboy all of a sudden. He'd be humiliated, if it were anyone other than her.
He pulls his lips away from Elizabeth's and nuzzles her neck, trying to breathe and get himself under control.
Then she murmurs, "My head is spinning."
He shoots upright in alarm, thinking something is wrong, which would be very, very bad, because they'd just finally gotten her back after all this time, and he's only just now starting to really believe this is real and Elizabeth is really back to stay.
He's lost her twice. Melodramatic though it might be, John's not sure he can survive a third time.
But Elizabeth is grinning at him in a way that would've gotten him flustered if he wasn't already. Her nails skim lightly over the back of his neck, giving him goose bumps. "Lack of oxygen, probably."
He smirks. "Or it could be something else."
She raises one eyebrow and he has a slightly insane urge to kiss her forehead because he's missed that gesture more than is rational. "I can't think of anything else that could be making me light headed, Colonel," she teases.
His hand is still up under the back of her loose shirt (she borrowed it from someone, he has no idea who). Building on knowledge that's barely two minutes old, he trails his fingertips very lightly down her spine, and Elizabeth shivers.
He shoots her an expectant look and she sighs, "Oh, right. That."
He chuckles and goes in for another kiss, this one slower and more exploratory now that the initial shock of lips crashing against lips is past and he knows she won't reject him outright. He'd imagined kissing her... well, a lot, but not in a long time. It feels right in a way that probably should be freaking him out. Somehow they both tilt their heads to the perfect opposite angles. Somehow the rhythm and movements of the kiss are in perfect synch, even though they've never done this (as themselves) until right now. When he draws back and brushes her lips more lightly Elizabeth follows his lead without hesitation, letting him gently press his mouth against hers again and again, breathing her in and letting the reality that he's holding her and kissing her sink in.
Her hands are wandering over his body, palms sliding along his shoulders and arms. When his lips drift along her cheek and jaw, Elizabeth runs a hand down the front of his chest. He wonders if she can feel how hard is heart is beating.
He lingers at the soft skin under her ear, because she's making these little gasping sounds he wants to memorize. Also she smells amazing. Even the hint of sweat is good because it's proof this is the real, human Elizabeth in his arms.
His hands tremble for a moment. Because his palms are pressed against her back, she feels it. Her hands lock behind his neck and she whispers his name questioningly.
John rests his forehead against hers. "You're real," he says quietly.
Her eyes look haunted for a second and two years of grief and guilt choke him momentarily, but she soothes him with a simple touch and her expression becomes determined. He used to hate that look, because it often meant they were going to have a debate about something, or she was going to put herself into harm's way and make him worry about her excessively.
This time, it's comforting. Her thumb traces his cheek. "Yes," she tells him just as quietly. "I am."
His eyes close and he bows his head slightly. Elizabeth stretches up and kisses his forehead, a gesture of forgiveness he doesn't deserve. Then she kisses his lips and he can't hold himself back, can't just sit and wallow in his own mistakes when Elizabeth is kissing him with increasing hunger. She starts to urge him backwards towards where his bed is and it takes the last gasp of his willpower to pause long enough to speak.
"Elizabeth, we don't have to rush into-"
His mouth goes dry at the feral look in her eye. Her fingers unzip his fleece pullover and he helps her pull it off. His t-shirt follows immediately and the way her gaze flickers over his upper body makes the rest of him ache.
"I think," she says deliberately, her fingers stroking down his chest. "We've waited long enough, don't you?"
John licks his lips. He can't even remember anymore the first time he imagined her naked. It's been at least five years; it happened too often to count. He does remember the slow realization that his feelings for her weren't just friendship or loyalty to a comrade, that Elizabeth had shifted into a category all her own. Even if he had never articulated it or dared act on those feelings, he'd known.
He pulls her closer, so fast she stumbles slightly and falls against him. "Yeah, we really have."
The next kiss is more urgent, and both of them start tugging at clothing. John's trying not to be too rough with her, but that moment of reflection seems to have loaded all that repression and emotion into his chest and he's suddenly desperate for her skin. He can barely register the feeling of Elizabeth helping him strip off his pants. All he can focus on is touching her.
He pauses only once, as he lays down beside her on the bed. It's the first time he's seeing her naked and this isn't something he could forget ever even if he wanted to. For a moment he just stares, one hand on her hip, drinking in the way her chest rises and falls with her hurried breathing.
He's still so long Elizabeth squirms and he sees a flicker of nervousness on her face. He offers a reassuring - and probably dirty - smirk before devoting himself to the task of kissing every inch of her body. He's never been good at talking during sex, so he lets his hands and lips speak for him, frustrating Elizabeth's periodic attempts to move things along. It's slightly selfish, he knows, taking control like this, but they have time now, and he wants this first.
It's part exultation, part penance. Then he watches her face as the pleasure he's giving her washes over her, and he's the one who is shaking in response.
She says his name, and he remembers fantasizing about getting her to call out his name in ecstasy. He just gathers her close and listens to her breathe for a minute.
Finally he relinquishes control and lets Elizabeth tug on his hips so that he's above her. He hesitates, a thought occurring to him. "Do we need to use protection?"
Elizabeth blinks. "Oh. Right." She's gone two years without any form of birth control, so it's probably safer to take precautions.
He kisses her briefly and gets up, rummaging in the bathroom for a minute before locating what he needs. Elizabeth stops him in the doorway, though. "Do you, um, have any lubricant?"
"I think so." He backtracks to the drawer where the condom was stashed and locates a tiny packet. He goes back to the bed, appreciating the sight of Elizabeth propped up on her elbows and watching him with amusement.
He returns to where he was and raises his eyebrows. "You think we'll need it?" He puts the packet on the table.
Elizabeth shrugs and lays back against the pillow, which distracts him slightly. "You can never have too much, right?"
She's grinning at him and he's torn between pointing out that there are actually some scenarios where too much lubrication could be a problem and just reveling in the fact that Elizabeth is giving him that look.
He decides getting the condom in place is more important. Elizabeth wraps her hands around his shoulders again, pulling him down and into another series of intense kisses, while their bodies start to slide against each other on instinct.
He's a tiny bit annoyed when she turns away, until he realizes she's reaching for the table. "We probably should use this," she says, looking adorably sheepish.
"Oh?"
"I've had some... problems, in the past. Needing more lubrication."
He can't wrap his mind around the surrealness of this conversation. Elizabeth is naked in his bed, her face flushing from embarrassment (and, he hopes, arousal), confessing details of her sex life to him, in order to make the first time they make love go smoother.
He kisses her cheek, bites gently on her shoulder. "Whatever you want," he says lowly.
Her smile in response lights up the whole room. "Oh really?" she asks archly, even as she breaks the tiny packet open.
Her hand touches him and John can't do much but hiss "yes" out through clenched teeth.
He can hear her laugh but he can't concentrate on anything else. Elizabeth draws him back to her, and their lower bodies shift and oh God. Now he understands what she meant and why she wanted to use the lubricant.
He knows right then that he's never, ever going to get tired of this, and if she'll let him, he wants to make love to her like this every night for the rest of his life.
John holds still for a minute, letting Elizabeth adjust, watching her face carefully and relieved he sees no sign of pain. He'd kill himself if he hurt her.
Unless she asked, anyway.
Experimentally he starts to shift, just a little at first. Elizabeth rocks against him, encouraging, and slowly they start to move together.
He's babbling, something he never does during sex, but he's fighting his own urges and he has to let the tension out somehow. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep it slow at first, because Elizabeth feels more incredible than anything he's ever felt in his life and his knuckles go white from holding onto the pillow under her shoulder as they find a steady, achingly slow rhythm together.
He loses all sense of time and any sense of space outside the edges of the bed. His whole world becomes Elizabeth's body, her closed eyes, her hands touching him, her voice - he's never heard her sound like this, guttural and needy, grunting "faster" and "harder" into his ear until finally his body is spiraling tighter and tighter as they come together frantically.
It's pure luck Elizabeth finishes first, because he's got no way to hold himself back at this point. As it is, hearing and seeing and feeling her like this does him in, and everything goes white for a minute with the force of his climax.
He drifts for what feels like a long time, his face pressed against Elizabeth's damp skin. He finally returns to the world at the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair.
"We're never leaving this bed," he tells her.
He feels her laugh with his whole body. "Oh no?" John props himself up on his elbows and nuzzles Elizabeth's neck.
"Nope." He licks the sweet spot under her ear and smirks at the reaction he can feel everywhere. "We're just staying here and having sex forever." Really amazing sex.
"I suppose we could order people to bring us food," she concedes, though her lips are twitching in amusement.
"And clean sheets," he adds, grinning when she blushes. It's ridiculously cute that he just made love to her and she's still blushing. "We're going to need a lot of them."
The blush moves down her throat and to her ears. "Ambitious much?" she quips through a yawn.
After cleaning up, he settles on his side, facing her, instinctively cuddling her body against his. Elizabeth fits against him as easily here as she has all night, like this was how it was supposed to be between them all along. He can feel her breath against his skin and he tugs and drags a blanket up over them both, holding her close.
He nearly says something about having a lot of time to make up for, but he's too content - a rare feeling for him - to bring up the past. He brushes a kiss against her forehead. "We might be in here for years," he says quietly. "I don't think it'll ever be enough, though."
He can feel the way she's smiling against his chest. "No harm in trying."
John falls asleep with a grin on his face.
Also I warn you, this is lame. It's sappy and possibly overly detailed and just... lame. However, it's what I have on hand to spread the het love across the intarwebz right now, so here 'tis.
Title: Never Enough
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Summary: They've waited long enough.
Pairings: Weir/Sheppard
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Wishful thinking?
Beta: None
Disclaimer: I do not own SGA or any of the characters. More's the pity.
Author's Notes: I was in the mood to write some happy reunion stuff with these two. Then there was a "bad sex cliche" thing that never seems to come up in fic that I worked in there.
John's heart is pounding. His palms are clammy. He feels like a teenager, which is utterly ridiculous. He's on the far side of forty, for heaven's sake, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, and an intergalactic explorer.
Touching a woman's bare skin should not be making him this crazy.
And it's just her back and she still has her shirt on.
He is a pathetic schoolboy all of a sudden. He'd be humiliated, if it were anyone other than her.
He pulls his lips away from Elizabeth's and nuzzles her neck, trying to breathe and get himself under control.
Then she murmurs, "My head is spinning."
He shoots upright in alarm, thinking something is wrong, which would be very, very bad, because they'd just finally gotten her back after all this time, and he's only just now starting to really believe this is real and Elizabeth is really back to stay.
He's lost her twice. Melodramatic though it might be, John's not sure he can survive a third time.
But Elizabeth is grinning at him in a way that would've gotten him flustered if he wasn't already. Her nails skim lightly over the back of his neck, giving him goose bumps. "Lack of oxygen, probably."
He smirks. "Or it could be something else."
She raises one eyebrow and he has a slightly insane urge to kiss her forehead because he's missed that gesture more than is rational. "I can't think of anything else that could be making me light headed, Colonel," she teases.
His hand is still up under the back of her loose shirt (she borrowed it from someone, he has no idea who). Building on knowledge that's barely two minutes old, he trails his fingertips very lightly down her spine, and Elizabeth shivers.
He shoots her an expectant look and she sighs, "Oh, right. That."
He chuckles and goes in for another kiss, this one slower and more exploratory now that the initial shock of lips crashing against lips is past and he knows she won't reject him outright. He'd imagined kissing her... well, a lot, but not in a long time. It feels right in a way that probably should be freaking him out. Somehow they both tilt their heads to the perfect opposite angles. Somehow the rhythm and movements of the kiss are in perfect synch, even though they've never done this (as themselves) until right now. When he draws back and brushes her lips more lightly Elizabeth follows his lead without hesitation, letting him gently press his mouth against hers again and again, breathing her in and letting the reality that he's holding her and kissing her sink in.
Her hands are wandering over his body, palms sliding along his shoulders and arms. When his lips drift along her cheek and jaw, Elizabeth runs a hand down the front of his chest. He wonders if she can feel how hard is heart is beating.
He lingers at the soft skin under her ear, because she's making these little gasping sounds he wants to memorize. Also she smells amazing. Even the hint of sweat is good because it's proof this is the real, human Elizabeth in his arms.
His hands tremble for a moment. Because his palms are pressed against her back, she feels it. Her hands lock behind his neck and she whispers his name questioningly.
John rests his forehead against hers. "You're real," he says quietly.
Her eyes look haunted for a second and two years of grief and guilt choke him momentarily, but she soothes him with a simple touch and her expression becomes determined. He used to hate that look, because it often meant they were going to have a debate about something, or she was going to put herself into harm's way and make him worry about her excessively.
This time, it's comforting. Her thumb traces his cheek. "Yes," she tells him just as quietly. "I am."
His eyes close and he bows his head slightly. Elizabeth stretches up and kisses his forehead, a gesture of forgiveness he doesn't deserve. Then she kisses his lips and he can't hold himself back, can't just sit and wallow in his own mistakes when Elizabeth is kissing him with increasing hunger. She starts to urge him backwards towards where his bed is and it takes the last gasp of his willpower to pause long enough to speak.
"Elizabeth, we don't have to rush into-"
His mouth goes dry at the feral look in her eye. Her fingers unzip his fleece pullover and he helps her pull it off. His t-shirt follows immediately and the way her gaze flickers over his upper body makes the rest of him ache.
"I think," she says deliberately, her fingers stroking down his chest. "We've waited long enough, don't you?"
John licks his lips. He can't even remember anymore the first time he imagined her naked. It's been at least five years; it happened too often to count. He does remember the slow realization that his feelings for her weren't just friendship or loyalty to a comrade, that Elizabeth had shifted into a category all her own. Even if he had never articulated it or dared act on those feelings, he'd known.
He pulls her closer, so fast she stumbles slightly and falls against him. "Yeah, we really have."
The next kiss is more urgent, and both of them start tugging at clothing. John's trying not to be too rough with her, but that moment of reflection seems to have loaded all that repression and emotion into his chest and he's suddenly desperate for her skin. He can barely register the feeling of Elizabeth helping him strip off his pants. All he can focus on is touching her.
He pauses only once, as he lays down beside her on the bed. It's the first time he's seeing her naked and this isn't something he could forget ever even if he wanted to. For a moment he just stares, one hand on her hip, drinking in the way her chest rises and falls with her hurried breathing.
He's still so long Elizabeth squirms and he sees a flicker of nervousness on her face. He offers a reassuring - and probably dirty - smirk before devoting himself to the task of kissing every inch of her body. He's never been good at talking during sex, so he lets his hands and lips speak for him, frustrating Elizabeth's periodic attempts to move things along. It's slightly selfish, he knows, taking control like this, but they have time now, and he wants this first.
It's part exultation, part penance. Then he watches her face as the pleasure he's giving her washes over her, and he's the one who is shaking in response.
She says his name, and he remembers fantasizing about getting her to call out his name in ecstasy. He just gathers her close and listens to her breathe for a minute.
Finally he relinquishes control and lets Elizabeth tug on his hips so that he's above her. He hesitates, a thought occurring to him. "Do we need to use protection?"
Elizabeth blinks. "Oh. Right." She's gone two years without any form of birth control, so it's probably safer to take precautions.
He kisses her briefly and gets up, rummaging in the bathroom for a minute before locating what he needs. Elizabeth stops him in the doorway, though. "Do you, um, have any lubricant?"
"I think so." He backtracks to the drawer where the condom was stashed and locates a tiny packet. He goes back to the bed, appreciating the sight of Elizabeth propped up on her elbows and watching him with amusement.
He returns to where he was and raises his eyebrows. "You think we'll need it?" He puts the packet on the table.
Elizabeth shrugs and lays back against the pillow, which distracts him slightly. "You can never have too much, right?"
She's grinning at him and he's torn between pointing out that there are actually some scenarios where too much lubrication could be a problem and just reveling in the fact that Elizabeth is giving him that look.
He decides getting the condom in place is more important. Elizabeth wraps her hands around his shoulders again, pulling him down and into another series of intense kisses, while their bodies start to slide against each other on instinct.
He's a tiny bit annoyed when she turns away, until he realizes she's reaching for the table. "We probably should use this," she says, looking adorably sheepish.
"Oh?"
"I've had some... problems, in the past. Needing more lubrication."
He can't wrap his mind around the surrealness of this conversation. Elizabeth is naked in his bed, her face flushing from embarrassment (and, he hopes, arousal), confessing details of her sex life to him, in order to make the first time they make love go smoother.
He kisses her cheek, bites gently on her shoulder. "Whatever you want," he says lowly.
Her smile in response lights up the whole room. "Oh really?" she asks archly, even as she breaks the tiny packet open.
Her hand touches him and John can't do much but hiss "yes" out through clenched teeth.
He can hear her laugh but he can't concentrate on anything else. Elizabeth draws him back to her, and their lower bodies shift and oh God. Now he understands what she meant and why she wanted to use the lubricant.
He knows right then that he's never, ever going to get tired of this, and if she'll let him, he wants to make love to her like this every night for the rest of his life.
John holds still for a minute, letting Elizabeth adjust, watching her face carefully and relieved he sees no sign of pain. He'd kill himself if he hurt her.
Unless she asked, anyway.
Experimentally he starts to shift, just a little at first. Elizabeth rocks against him, encouraging, and slowly they start to move together.
He's babbling, something he never does during sex, but he's fighting his own urges and he has to let the tension out somehow. He doesn’t know how he manages to keep it slow at first, because Elizabeth feels more incredible than anything he's ever felt in his life and his knuckles go white from holding onto the pillow under her shoulder as they find a steady, achingly slow rhythm together.
He loses all sense of time and any sense of space outside the edges of the bed. His whole world becomes Elizabeth's body, her closed eyes, her hands touching him, her voice - he's never heard her sound like this, guttural and needy, grunting "faster" and "harder" into his ear until finally his body is spiraling tighter and tighter as they come together frantically.
It's pure luck Elizabeth finishes first, because he's got no way to hold himself back at this point. As it is, hearing and seeing and feeling her like this does him in, and everything goes white for a minute with the force of his climax.
He drifts for what feels like a long time, his face pressed against Elizabeth's damp skin. He finally returns to the world at the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair.
"We're never leaving this bed," he tells her.
He feels her laugh with his whole body. "Oh no?" John props himself up on his elbows and nuzzles Elizabeth's neck.
"Nope." He licks the sweet spot under her ear and smirks at the reaction he can feel everywhere. "We're just staying here and having sex forever." Really amazing sex.
"I suppose we could order people to bring us food," she concedes, though her lips are twitching in amusement.
"And clean sheets," he adds, grinning when she blushes. It's ridiculously cute that he just made love to her and she's still blushing. "We're going to need a lot of them."
The blush moves down her throat and to her ears. "Ambitious much?" she quips through a yawn.
After cleaning up, he settles on his side, facing her, instinctively cuddling her body against his. Elizabeth fits against him as easily here as she has all night, like this was how it was supposed to be between them all along. He can feel her breath against his skin and he tugs and drags a blanket up over them both, holding her close.
He nearly says something about having a lot of time to make up for, but he's too content - a rare feeling for him - to bring up the past. He brushes a kiss against her forehead. "We might be in here for years," he says quietly. "I don't think it'll ever be enough, though."
He can feel the way she's smiling against his chest. "No harm in trying."
John falls asleep with a grin on his face.