Hot hot
day
Author: wanderingsmith
May 2008
Summary: PWP - When the days run Hot
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me
for this.
AN: a fic a day keeps the blues at bay?
-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-
WARNING -s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-
Elizabeth ambled toward the isolated balcony, avoiding working up any
extra warmth at all. How air conditioning failed on the hottest,
stickiest, week even in an Ancient city.... wasn't worth thinking about.
She'd given up on dignity and started wearing her most opaque silk tank
top all on its own the second day. And watching John's mouth drop open
and his eyes stay glued to her until Ronon slapped his back had been...
thoroughly gratifying. Having him hover at her shoulder every minute
and glare obviously at every man that looked at her... not so much.
Their well-excusable heat-caused short tempers had clashed every second
hour, but somehow he never actually moved away. And once they got their
shouting match over with, they managed another couple of hours together.
He'd finally run away when Rodney and Zelenka cornered her and started
waxing scientific. And now, instead of enjoying the freedom... she was
actually running... well, *ambling* him to ground.
Opening the door and stepping outside... provided absolutely no
difference in temperature. The wonderful ocean breeze that used to
chill her when they stood on her balcony... was gone without a trace.
The sweat standing on her skin and soaked top had no relief.
She found her unwanted bodyguard leaning back on the wall in a corner
that pretended to shade. "Figured you'd track me down sooner or later."
he hadn't bothered opening his eyes. She watched the sweat slide down
is throat and into the nest of hair on his bare chest and started to
grin. He'd kept the thinnest, raggediest t-shirt on right up to the
last time she'd seen him. This was not a sight she'd ever had the
pleasure of. Ummm, maybe she understood his reaction now. She wasn't
all that keen to share this sight with the rest of the over-heated
women in Atlantis.
"Elizabeth, if you keep staring like that, I'm not going to be
responsible for my actions."
Her eyes jerked back up at his words, catching his and not having time
to react before he took the two steps between them. His hands came up
to hold her jaw as he kissed her, lips hard and tongue taking advantage
of the fact that she'd opened her mouth to question his actions. It
wasn't until she felt the wall hit her back that she realized he'd
pushed her into moving.
A week of being surrounded in his scent, his glistening skin and
burning eyes. Feeling the passion of annoyance, her too-warm body
reacting too quickly, overheated skin sensitive to even light silk. She
wasn't especially surprised one of them had broken. Wasn't surprised
she couldn't seem to make herself fight him off. She could have; all
she had to do was push and she knew he'd step away. He might argue, but
he would physically let go. But. Oh! His heated, wet chest pressed
tight into hers, teasing tight nipples hard into swollen breasts. When
she moaned, the rest of his body settled on hers, both of them in damp,
rolled-hem pants.
Her hands gave up the idea of saying stop and slid on the wet,
heavy-muscled shoulders and into the dripping-dark hair, pulling him
close as hard as he was pushing her between himself and the wall. His
tongue was smooth and wet and making no qualms of taking ownership of
her mouth, even as his hips pressed into her pelvis, heavy aroused
shaft rocking right on her swollen cleft and throbbing clit.
She wasn't thinking at all anymore, she could feel instead. Feel the
powerful body, still warmer than the air, tensed and very definitely
aroused, surrounding her. He wasn't leaving her mouth and she wouldn't
have let him, stroking and suckling his invading tongue, getting around
it to return the invasion, feeling him shudder and rock harder. The
refusal to release his lips left them short of breath and stealing air
by misaligning the kiss from time to time.
One of her hands had gone back to touching those heavy, flexing
shoulder muscles, feeling as though she held the essence of man at her
fingertips. She could feel pleasure tingles getting harder and longer
with every rock of his hips; couldn't quite comprehend that what she
was feeling, so quickly, was the first steps of climax. Not until he
dropped a hand between them and flicked his thumb across the squashed
nipple.
John couldn't believe it when he felt her body start to stiffen,
feeling her keening cry shiver right down his spinal cord, tightening
the need in his balls as he sped up the rhythm even more. Gods! The
idea that he could bring Elizabeth pleasure so easily; that she wanted
him as viciously as he wanted her. The exercise was making the sweat
flow on both of them, hopelessly soaking clothe and making every touch
slippery and burning hot. He was actually close, with the pulsing bite
of her nails in his shoulder and scalp, the way she made love to his
mouth as much as her hot, slick body did to his. Damn this was crazy.
So good crazy.
She was moaning with every rock, such a sweet feminine sound of
pleasure and need, nipping at his lip as he felt orgasm ripping through
him, shout drowned in her mouth as he ground her tight into the wall,
pleasure spreading out from his cock until he lost track of everything
else in the world.
She was gently stroking his back as he got his senses back, his head
drooping on her shoulder. Her body was still shuddering lightly; like
his. He raised himself up on hands against the wall, gently separating
them. Soaked silk from wet chest; two pairs of very wet pants. He *had*
warned her; and he *would* have stopped if she'd resisted. But still,
it wasn't like him to be forceful; especially not with Elizabeth. But
her green eyes were mellow when he made himself meet them. And she gave
him that teasing smile she always seemed to have for him.
"Not responsible for your actions, John? Maybe *I* should encourage
*you* to drop responsibility more often."
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