![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
I post the porn, it does not post me.
Cookies to the person that gets the mis-phrased quote.
Porn! Atlantis! Lizzie/Shep!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R. Set: Eh.... probably future something.
Notes: Melody said "(who knows hardcore shippers can find a fan fic in just about anything)" and there was something about, uh, ownership rights.. Anyway.
This one's for nos', who wanted porn.
Game of Concentration
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
"We translated it right."
"You couldn't have." Dr. Weir was glaring. And she knew it. She also knew Rodney and his team of linguists were wrong. *Had* to be wrong.
"Look, Elizabeth," McKay waved a hand, "I am rarely--if ever--wrong. And this translation says--"
"But this city belonged to the Ancients!" Okay. Maybe she was being a little vociferous.
Maybe. Except that currently, none of them could see Major John Sheppard. Except for her. And she didn't want to look down under her desk where he was being a complete bastard. A light finger traced up the inside of her left leg and she fought back a shudder.
"Dr. Weir," one of the linguists started, his voice stiff.
"Yes! Fine." She interrupted. "You're right. Or not. I don't care right now. Just--go away."
McKay arched an eyebrow at her, "Feeling tense, Elizabeth? Because I'm sure I could help with that." And he began to walk around her desk.
"No." She gritted her teeth as fingers teased at the bare skin behind her knee. Damn, she was going to regret wearing a skirt to work today for the rest of her life. "I'm fine. I just have reports to finish."
"All right." He eyed her for a moment, then began to smirk. "Should I find Major Sheppard for you? I've noticed it relieves your tension to yell at him."
Find him? Hah. She knew where he was. And she was SO yelling at him. As soon as--her train of thought cut off. As smirking lips touched the skin of her thigh.
Oh, god. "You do that." She managed.
Ushering his linguists out, McKay shot her one last look, and then was gone.
The door swung shut behind him.
"I'm going to kill you."
His answer was to nip his way up the inside of her thigh.
A groan escaped her. "Major--"
"Shhh." The breath wafted along damp skin, and Elizabeth seriously considered whether she'd chosen the best place for an office.
Football stats, she thought desperately, as his lips and tongue began playing with her. Except she hated football... Scary movies, Scream, House on Haunted Hill--no. Violence made her want to--yeah, there was a train of thought to cut off. Treaties. Mountains of paper that required her signature and clauses and forthwiths and-- "Oh, god." Her muscles clenched as he shifted his angle of attack.
Elizabeth was really very glad she'd chosen such a massive, solid-looking, opaque desk.
Her hands clenched on the desk as she fought the urge to moan or growl or (dear god, this was so unfair) scream.
And then he stopped.
He. Stopped.
She stared down at him as he pulled back and looked up at her. "Liz?" The tone was definitely slightly breathless, but since she was breathless, she was okay with that.
"Finish it." Her own voice was raspy with the need to vocalize her pleasure.
But the glass walls of her office would definitely *not* keep the sound from escaping. And there were appearances to keep up.
"Right." And he dove back in, his lips and tongue and fingers going that little bit harder, that slight bit faster.
Her eyes slitted and her back arched and she held in the cry that demanded its release. Like the devil she knew him to be, he simply strove harder, as if determined to force her to make some sound. But she was getting better at being silent, considering his penchant for sex in semi-public places.
"Oh." The word was nearly sub-vocalized as she came, eyes shutting tightly, knuckles going white on the edge of her desk.
When she finally relaxed, John was kissing the skin of her thighs again, carefully drying her with his handkerchief and tongue. A few last shock-waves traveled through her and then she completely slumped in her chair.
"Better?"
"Mhm."
A soft chuckle and he kissed her knee one last time, then began scrambling out from under her desk.
He was at the door before she'd mustered the energy to sit straight again. Her muscles were now happily mushy, and she was really hoping there wouldn't be any emergencies. At least not for an hour or so. "John?"
"Dr. Weir?"
"Go wash your face, then see if Teyla can confirm McKay's translation."
"Yes, ma'am." He mock-saluted her, hankie still in one hand.
"I'll... see you later."
"Yeah." He reached for the knob, then looked back at her. "Lunch?"
"Lunch." She confirmed.
And then he was gone, leaving a rather contentedly relaxed (and vaguely scandalized, although she was getting used to Sheppard's way of pushing the boundaries) leader of Atlantis. A city that was, apparently, leased.
-finis-
Porn! Atlantis! Lizzie/Shep!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R. Set: Eh.... probably future something.
Notes: Melody said "(who knows hardcore shippers can find a fan fic in just about anything)" and there was something about, uh, ownership rights.. Anyway.
This one's for nos', who wanted porn.
Game of Concentration
by Ana Lyssie Cotton
"We translated it right."
"You couldn't have." Dr. Weir was glaring. And she knew it. She also knew Rodney and his team of linguists were wrong. *Had* to be wrong.
"Look, Elizabeth," McKay waved a hand, "I am rarely--if ever--wrong. And this translation says--"
"But this city belonged to the Ancients!" Okay. Maybe she was being a little vociferous.
Maybe. Except that currently, none of them could see Major John Sheppard. Except for her. And she didn't want to look down under her desk where he was being a complete bastard. A light finger traced up the inside of her left leg and she fought back a shudder.
"Dr. Weir," one of the linguists started, his voice stiff.
"Yes! Fine." She interrupted. "You're right. Or not. I don't care right now. Just--go away."
McKay arched an eyebrow at her, "Feeling tense, Elizabeth? Because I'm sure I could help with that." And he began to walk around her desk.
"No." She gritted her teeth as fingers teased at the bare skin behind her knee. Damn, she was going to regret wearing a skirt to work today for the rest of her life. "I'm fine. I just have reports to finish."
"All right." He eyed her for a moment, then began to smirk. "Should I find Major Sheppard for you? I've noticed it relieves your tension to yell at him."
Find him? Hah. She knew where he was. And she was SO yelling at him. As soon as--her train of thought cut off. As smirking lips touched the skin of her thigh.
Oh, god. "You do that." She managed.
Ushering his linguists out, McKay shot her one last look, and then was gone.
The door swung shut behind him.
"I'm going to kill you."
His answer was to nip his way up the inside of her thigh.
A groan escaped her. "Major--"
"Shhh." The breath wafted along damp skin, and Elizabeth seriously considered whether she'd chosen the best place for an office.
Football stats, she thought desperately, as his lips and tongue began playing with her. Except she hated football... Scary movies, Scream, House on Haunted Hill--no. Violence made her want to--yeah, there was a train of thought to cut off. Treaties. Mountains of paper that required her signature and clauses and forthwiths and-- "Oh, god." Her muscles clenched as he shifted his angle of attack.
Elizabeth was really very glad she'd chosen such a massive, solid-looking, opaque desk.
Her hands clenched on the desk as she fought the urge to moan or growl or (dear god, this was so unfair) scream.
And then he stopped.
He. Stopped.
She stared down at him as he pulled back and looked up at her. "Liz?" The tone was definitely slightly breathless, but since she was breathless, she was okay with that.
"Finish it." Her own voice was raspy with the need to vocalize her pleasure.
But the glass walls of her office would definitely *not* keep the sound from escaping. And there were appearances to keep up.
"Right." And he dove back in, his lips and tongue and fingers going that little bit harder, that slight bit faster.
Her eyes slitted and her back arched and she held in the cry that demanded its release. Like the devil she knew him to be, he simply strove harder, as if determined to force her to make some sound. But she was getting better at being silent, considering his penchant for sex in semi-public places.
"Oh." The word was nearly sub-vocalized as she came, eyes shutting tightly, knuckles going white on the edge of her desk.
When she finally relaxed, John was kissing the skin of her thighs again, carefully drying her with his handkerchief and tongue. A few last shock-waves traveled through her and then she completely slumped in her chair.
"Better?"
"Mhm."
A soft chuckle and he kissed her knee one last time, then began scrambling out from under her desk.
He was at the door before she'd mustered the energy to sit straight again. Her muscles were now happily mushy, and she was really hoping there wouldn't be any emergencies. At least not for an hour or so. "John?"
"Dr. Weir?"
"Go wash your face, then see if Teyla can confirm McKay's translation."
"Yes, ma'am." He mock-saluted her, hankie still in one hand.
"I'll... see you later."
"Yeah." He reached for the knob, then looked back at her. "Lunch?"
"Lunch." She confirmed.
And then he was gone, leaving a rather contentedly relaxed (and vaguely scandalized, although she was getting used to Sheppard's way of pushing the boundaries) leader of Atlantis. A city that was, apparently, leased.
-finis-
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
SSS will be finished this weekend OR ELSE, damnit. ^_^
And now I have a replicarter/mckay bug along with everything else demanding to be written. yay.
no subject
Nos' infected you, huh?
See, I do not have that bug, because I have... waytoomanyfuckingotherthings to write.
*grumble* Wanna be at home ripping apart the crossover and saying "oh, god. this sucks..."
no subject
I have the waytoomanyfuckingotherthings to write bug too, meh, but...HEY! At least my fic writers block is teh dead. I place a moderate amount of blame on you. ::worships::
*grumbles too* wants to be ficcing at home....wah...
no subject
At the bar, she waited for the right moment.
When he walked past her, she leaned back, brushing against him.
"Uh..."
"Hi."
Brown eyes assessed her, then flicked to his hairy companion. "Chewie, why don't you..."
The tall hirsute alien made a snickering sound, but moved on.
"So... What's a girl like you doin' in an intergalactic gin-joint like this?"
"Waiting for you."
"Hey. Any pursuit that leads to happiness."
She smirked. "Why don't we go for a walk?"
no subject
One of my favorite Alien Res quotes keeps coming to mind...
"Hey, you got a socket wrench? Maybe she just needs an oil change. Can't believe I almost fucked it."
"Yeah, like you never fucked a robot."
no subject
That movie had some fabulous lines... Even if it was basically the Firefly Primer.
*pats Ripley*
Luuuuuvv yooou
no subject
"Who do I have to fuck to get off this boat?"
"I can get you off, but maybe not this boat."
"Hey, I thought you were dead."
"Yeah...I get that a lot."
"She's a TOASTER OVEN"
::squee::
no subject
"I need a fuck."
sigh. Dude, I need to watch that movie... again.
(and I, oddly, don't hate it. I love Ripley. It's just... amusing to watch that, and then Firefly, and go, "Aw, Joss, you really don't have very much variety when it comes to characters...")
no subject
"Are you kidding? This piece of shit is even older than I am."
(Wait...shit. now I have to move Firefly up the line of fandoms to get into. Mother of...)
no subject
(nah. Do Farscape, first)
and. eek. L back.
no subject
(Esp as the Peacekeeper Wars is on my list of MUST SEEs and I have no real idea of what's going on outside the fact that Aeryn is hot.)
mm.