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'Lantis miniporn. Shep/Liz
R. Not nice,really. Was written at Liz. Not mine. Set anytime.
He's her Tuesday appointment, and he's always punctual.
"Elizabeth."
It takes very little to get him hard, to make him ache with need, to look at her with eyes so dark they could swallow her whole.
And she loves this power.
"Major."
The conference room is always closed for these meetings. Although she's not sure the walls are thick enough for the things she does to him (and he begged hoarsely for twenty minutes last week, but she's not in the mood to prolong it today).
She kisses him without preamble, and he backs into the table, knees giving at the same moment she gets his fly open.
The condom is a precaution she always makes time for.
"Oh, God."
"Back." Imperious. She likes that tone in her voice, and knows he does too as he complies, sinking oh-so-slowly onto the table and almost smirking at her.
She likes to use this time to think. To plan her strategies for the next trade negotiations, and go over the day's completed schedule to make sure she hasn't missed anything. Elizabeth really has no idea what Sheppard thinks while she fucks him.
Never been interested enough in asking.
It's not that she doesn't care for Sheppard. She does, in a way. After all, she respects him, and appreciates his counsel. But there are some days when she needs something more from him. And on those days, he gives. He's never objected, and she had once thought he would.
There were rumors of relationships. Men, women, one even had him copulating with a puddlejumper, but even Elizabeth's credulity was stretched with that one.
She could imagine him masturbating inside of one, hand on the keyboard, though.
The image flashes through her, and distracts her for a moment. A soft moan rises in her throat.
Sheppard thrusts upwards, catching her off-guard.
Next week, she thinks as she stares down at him as her world (his world, their world) falls apart around her, he'll come first.
He's her Tuesday appointment, and he's always punctual.
"Elizabeth."
It takes very little to get him hard, to make him ache with need, to look at her with eyes so dark they could swallow her whole.
And she loves this power.
"Major."
The conference room is always closed for these meetings. Although she's not sure the walls are thick enough for the things she does to him (and he begged hoarsely for twenty minutes last week, but she's not in the mood to prolong it today).
She kisses him without preamble, and he backs into the table, knees giving at the same moment she gets his fly open.
The condom is a precaution she always makes time for.
"Oh, God."
"Back." Imperious. She likes that tone in her voice, and knows he does too as he complies, sinking oh-so-slowly onto the table and almost smirking at her.
She likes to use this time to think. To plan her strategies for the next trade negotiations, and go over the day's completed schedule to make sure she hasn't missed anything. Elizabeth really has no idea what Sheppard thinks while she fucks him.
Never been interested enough in asking.
It's not that she doesn't care for Sheppard. She does, in a way. After all, she respects him, and appreciates his counsel. But there are some days when she needs something more from him. And on those days, he gives. He's never objected, and she had once thought he would.
There were rumors of relationships. Men, women, one even had him copulating with a puddlejumper, but even Elizabeth's credulity was stretched with that one.
She could imagine him masturbating inside of one, hand on the keyboard, though.
The image flashes through her, and distracts her for a moment. A soft moan rises in her throat.
Sheppard thrusts upwards, catching her off-guard.
Next week, she thinks as she stares down at him as her world (his world, their world) falls apart around her, he'll come first.
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