Packs and
luggage
Author: wanderingsmith
sept 2008
Summary: Elizabeth mentally rambles about relationships
Beta: comanche_rider
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me
for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I
play with 'em.
AN: read Infinite
Little
Actions from ed_84 and.. couldn't stop the
writing bug from putting this little scene down. anyone have
bug spray?
Goto Chapter 2: Good morning
Chapter one
Tired, grumpy, and most of all, *lonely*, Elizabeth fished for the
spare dental floss that she was *sure* was somewhere on the
shelf. The pack of cheap razors he loves; no. The hair gel
Lorne gave him as a gag birthday present and which he insists he has to
keep so he can find a way to use it in a practical joke against the
major; no. The mangled, still all-too-full tubes of toothpaste,
antibiotic ointment and anti-itch cream; no, no and no.
She used to hate Simon's things mixing with hers, making her take
longer to look for *her* hand cream or *her* spare soap. But then
she remembers *he* would turn around and whine about her leaving work
papers on the coffee table and the couch-blanket thrown over the
armchair.
John's mess -and it *was* a mess, the man couldn't seem to equate
putting a bottle back in its place with always putting his underwear
and ammunition in the same corner of his field pack- was a *part* of
her
things. As much as she was aware that it was the toothpaste *he*
used.. it was just a part of her room. Their room. When
they went to Earth, she automatically packed all of it into the
luggage. If she needed hand cream, she used *the* hand
cream.
The fact that, this time, the bottle on the counter was one he'd
chosen, was irrelevant. Shampoo, soap and shaving cream went from
vanilla and fruit-scented to mint or unscented and back again, mostly
without comment.
The occasional 'discussions' about *some* of those choices were
something they both tried to keep in mind and respect; she avoided
rose, he stayed away from musk. At least on shared items.
She had no problem *whatsoever* with his deodorant.. -as her hand
closed around the stick, she pulled off the lid and took a breath,
knowing it would only make his absence all the more real.. but unable
to help reaching for the familiar- And he'd been known to get very
'distracted' when he caught her fresh from a shower with her body wash.
These days, she understood what her mother had meant about being
careful who she chose for a life partner.
She realized that the only reason she and Simon had survived as a
couple at all, was that she'd spent three quarters of her time on
business trips. John, on the other hand, had actually cut down on
the amount of time he spent in the field. Not through
'discussion', let along any request on her part. He'd just
assigned less and less missions to his team. Assigned Rodney to
Lorne more often, Ronon to SGA12. And Teyla had apparently read
his mind and requested to spend more time working on Atlantis.
Carson wanted to train her medically, and Zelenka said she was a
miracle at explaining things to 'soldiers' -she automatically deleted
the Czech he'd put in front of the word-.
And yet they hadn't killed each other. Had instead settled into a
private life that didn't seem to care that they were opposites in so
many ways, that the conditions of their rooms had been very different
from each other. The bathroom was now much messier than hers had
been, and the living room much messier than his. But he knew
where specific papers were as well as she knew where his razors
were. He rolled his eyes at the always-moving couch blanket as
much as she did over the multiple mangled tubes.
And now this week-long trip of SGA1 to negotiate for a science exchange
-she grinned at the thought of what the rebellious major she'd first
met would have said at the idea-, was the first time in two months that
they'd been apart. And she was starting to convince herself that
Teyla, Lorne and Rodney could take care of Atlantis on their own these
days.
Next time, he was packing up *both* of their field packs. Even if she
had to pull out the pure rose-oil perfume to convince him...
Chapter two: Good morning
Oct 2008
Summary: PWP - John
waking up. in the verse of Packs and luggage
Rating: NC17
AN: did I hear a request for fluffy smut? this was banged off
(dirty!)
quickly, after getting completely distracted by reading on PG..
not yet betaed and needs a few more rereads
-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-
John woke up slowly, something he took guilty pride in having learned
to do in the last few months.
A soldier in the field couldn't afford to be anything but wide awake in
an instant, and so his managing to learn such an odd 'ability' was just
one more proof of the change in his life. He spent every minute he
could on Atlantis now, and didn't object to doing his paperwork, making
plans, writing recommendations and requests. That almost certainly had
something to do with the fact that he did it all from a comfortable
chair he'd acquired and which sat off to the side of Elizabeth office.
Elizabeth.
He reflexively shifted forward the inch it took for his front to be in
complete contact with the soft, warm skin of her back and thighs. His
nose slipped into a familiar spot on the side of her neck, encountering
the edge of the comforter and sliding underneath it to breathe in the
drugging scent of heated skin. One arm was half numb from her head
sleeping on it, but the other took advantage of the closer contact and
reached to hold even more of her near; closing familiarly,
proprietarily, over his wife's crotch.
Wriggling a tiny bit closer, John sighed contentedly. This was the way
to wake up, he thought drowsily.
The half-erection he'd woken with was no surprise. All else aside,
Elizabeth had had a meeting until late in the evening yesterday and
he'd been too beat from a long day of training recruits to wait up for
her.
Combing through her curls half-idly, he lipped her shoulder lazily. He
was in no hurry, either to wake up, *or* to have intercourse. Making
love.. *that* was something he relished; loving Elizabeth, in every
way, in *any* way, was his life. Keeping Atlantis and its people safe
was just an extension of that, really. Not nearly as pleasurable.. but
still related enough to keep him content.
The lazy fingers finally slipped through the thickly barrier and he
smiled, his tongue mirroring the path his index was delicately tracing
on her lips. Circling and circling; slip-sliding on moist flesh that
his still sleepy brain half monitored the changes to.
Elizabeth, still dead to the world, sighed when his finger slid down
between the slowly swelling ridges, his hips rolling into hers as he
touched wet heat and started waking up in earnest. He trailed his lips
up her shoulder to her neck as his fingertip settled down to circle the
little nub above the source of moisture and pleasure, to which he also
gave the odd stroke.
He was nibbling at the tender skin below her ear, knowing her body
needed time and convincing to wake up and more than happy to provide
incentive in the meantime. Of course, he'd have liked it better if his
other was free to fondle a breast or two, but he'd given that up after
the first week. No matter how they went to sleep, Elizabeth would
inevitably wind up on her side, her head on his arm and the rest of his
body spooned behind her. Mornings meant one numb arm, and only one free
arm -to do whatever- until she woke and freed him from his golden
prison.
He was stiff, throbbing and controlling the grinding movement of his
hips with difficulty when he really took notice of the change in her
body. Entirely swollen sex, moisture making his fingertip glide sexily
as hell, and a very raised hood that made her shudder whenever he
skated close by. With a victorious grin, John nibbled at Elizabeth's
earlobe as he carefully brushed over her clit. The jerk of her body
against his made him moan, Little John ground tight between the cheeks
of her ass.
Alternating the deliberate brushes with continued circling, it only
took a couple more runs to hear Elizabeth moan "Johnnnn" as her mind
snapped awake.
"Good morning." Now that she was with him, John pulled his hips back,
his hand coming around to shift his cock down between those slick,
thick lips, biting down on her shoulder with a moan as the heat seared
him. Panting softly, Elizabeth shifted her body carefully to get in
position for his thrust, even before he got his hand back around to
finish guiding his tip into her eagerly flexing vagina. Holding himself
still for just a second to take a last deep breath, John felt her reach
up and tangle her fingers in the hair behind his ear, fumbling a hint
that he should bend his head closer for a kiss.
The slide in was slow and controlled, feeling Elizabeth moan against
his lips. And then there was no more waiting, his index found her clit
again and stroked haphazardly as he rocked back and forth, his body
knowing, nowadays, exactly how much he could slide back to stay
engaged, even as she added her movements to the play, just as aware, as
she whimpered his name again, fingers clenched tight against his skull
as they panted together in a sloppy version of kissing, both
concentrated on an entirely different part of their anatomies.
John could feel tension clamping down on his balls and desperately
twitched at her clit, wanting her with him, finally letting himself go
when he felt her body suddenly stop and tense up, every muscle
tightening irrevocably as he cried her name harshly, his finger jerking
without any thought now. The perfect, *hard* massage on his cock
finished him with long, drawn-out stream of pleasurable agony, just
aware enough of her breathless cries for them to add to the stimulation.
Hearing the pleased humour in her voice got him out of his minutes-long
happy daze, "Good morning." He opened his eyes for the first time. The
warm glow of weakness in his body, wisps of still-flowery-scented hair
in his nose and the flowery pattern of the comforter in his view were
heaven. More than reason enough to open his otherwise contentedly
closed lids.
Yeah, definitely another very good morning.
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