Territoriality

White.

John Sheppard's field of vision was full of the color. As his face was crammed into the pillow. He closed his eyes again, but woke. Yawned. Stretched languidly, rolling onto his back. Enjoying the sheer comfort of the bed but felt constrained. Felt the absence of Moira beside him. The lack of her warm curves pressing against him. His arm was pulled up to the headboard. His uninjured wrist tied there by a silken green ribbon. He smiled. Laughed aloud. "Moira?"

He knew she wasn't there. Could tell by the silence in the sunny room. He scooted up to untie himself. Amused. Titillated. Desirous. A swirl of emotions hit him. Emotions running deeper than the physical ones. The sexual ones. He sighed, thinking. A frown crossing his handsome face as he wrapped the green ribbon around his finger. He lazily slid under the blankets again.

Folded his arms under the pillows.

Closed his eyes as if to block his thoughts. Shove down all the emotions. But he knew what he had to do. Knew he had to break it off. It had advanced beyond the sex. The sex was a big part, the attraction magnetic, undeniable. Enjoyable. Pleasurable. But the emotional attachment was growing. He found himself wanting to do things for her. To make her happy. To spend more time with her. He sighed. Cursed silently in his head. Freed his arms to pick at his lower lip. At the scab. "Ow!" He scowled in uncertainty.

***********************************************************************

Moira O'Meara studied the holoscreen. A map of the mainland's coastline was on display. A cut-away of the geographic composition, dipping beneath the ocean. "Can you zoom in there?" She pointed to a dramatic cliff face.

Rodney McKay nodded. Hit a button. "The coastline where we found that hatch. It's got quite a drop, as you can tell. That red pulse is where the cave is. Was," he corrected.

"Centuries of erosion," Julie Armstrong noted, flinging her blond hair over her shoulder as she leaned to examine the scan. "The whole edifice of that cliff will be gone within a hundred years. Looks like limestone?"

"On the surface, yes," Rodney confirmed.

"That," Evan Lorne pointed, "looks like an outlet. To the sea. We may have a problem."

"Go wider, Rodney," Elizabeth Weir instructed. She frowned. "What worries me is this. And this." She pointed to varying spots on the screen. "A series of interconnected caverns, all under the sea and with access to the ocean. Access potentially to the city. Could those things swim that far to reach us?"

Moira shrugged as all eyes turned to her. "Maybe. If they need a food source, and now realize that we are here...it is possible. I don't know if they are a wholly aquatic or semi-aquatic species."

"We'll need to seal them off. The caves. One by one," Evan realized. Glanced at Julie but she was staring at the scan, pensive expression on her face.

"No no no no no!" Rodney objected, shaking his finger at Evan as if the major was a schoolboy. "We'll need to inventory them first!" He glanced at Elizabeth before she could object. "For Ancient tech! I mean old Ancient tech. If we can gather that we may be able to figure out the more complicated systems...by retro engineering. And if there's a chance, however remote that we could find a working ZPM we have to check! And if there is I could get those systems up and running to protect the city!"

"No, Rodney, we've been over this. The threat those things represent is too serious to ignore. As is the threat of those systems. I don't want to risk another Jumper being shot down," Elizabeth decided. She raised a hand to forestall the scientist's objection. "We can scan for energy readings first, but I don't want anyone going down–"

"Going down?" John asked, joining the discussion. His gaze swept over the group, pausing briefly on Moira whose back was to him. "Hmm...going down...I know all about that, going down. Don't I, Moira? Oh wait, you know a little..."

Moira tensed. Hearing his voice, the odd mixture of teasing merriment and something else. An odd undertone. She felt a blush warming her cheeks and did not turn to face him. "John?"

"Yes, sir," Evan smoothly intervened, "into the cave systems. I think we should go completely under the ocean, then come up into the caves that way. We'll be protected in the Jumper from any, um, psychic interference."

"That's...that's brilliant!" Rodney finally decided. "We could see everything! I mean the consoles and any Ancient tech, and the energy readings can direct us to pinpoint the locations of any ZPMs we–" he spoke rapidly, afraid his prurient interest might be realized.

"I think so, too. Major Lorne, take a team to–" Elizabeth began.

"No!" Moira looked at Elizabeth. "It would be better with less, less men. Less people. The visual, um, stimulation is how they initiate their, um, thrall," she tried to explain awkwardly. "Evan and I can go. Like he said we'll be safer in the Jumper and if we need to get out to retrieve data or a ZPM I could go."

"No."

At John's mild objection all eyes moved to him. "Colonel? You have a problem with this?" Elizabeth asked. A testing glint in her eyes. A challenge unspoken. Expected.

John replied, "Yes. Frankly you're going to need a damn good pilot to execute those kinds of maneuvers under water. Especially with a shield and limited visibility. And when you fire your drones to seal those caves you'll need precision and accuracy."

Elizabeth smirked. "And that would be you, I'm guessing?"

John shrugged but answered, "Yeah."

"Well, it's settled then," Rodney decided. "You can fly the Jumper and I can do the scans."

"No," John refused.

"I agree," Elizabeth stated. "You're not going, Rodney. There's no need for you to go."

"What? Of course there is! And yes, I'm thinking clearly, rationally, so don't accuse me of anything, anything other than a purely scientific interest here!"

"What she means, Rodney, is that it's reckless. Needlessly dangerous and we can't risk losing you on what is basically a search and destroy mission. Me, on the other hand, well, it's right up my alley. And Moira...Moira because apparently she's expendable."

"John!" Elizabeth objected. "I never said–"

"No, don't worry. It's my job, I accept that. Moira! Let's go!" John snapped. Turned to leave.

"John!" Elizabeth called to his rapidly striding form. "You can't–"

"I'll be fine!" he called as he headed across the room. "Moira's got my ass covered, doesn't she, Rodney? Let's go, Moira!" He glanced over his shoulder. Expression stern.

"We will seal all of the cave entrances!" Moira assured, hastening after him, exchanging a puzzled glance with Evan. She rushed after him. His long strides crossing the hallways in record time. "John! John, what is it now? John!"

"Not now! Come on! Move that pert little ass!" he snapped over his shoulder. Not bothering to look at her as they reached the Jumper bay.

"John! Why are you angry? Why are you angry with me? What the hell is wrong with you? What? John!" She grabbed his arm, nearly falling but caught herself as he finally stopped. "Didn't you, didn't you like the joke I played on you this morning?"

"I loved it," he said tersely. Glancing at her. He pulled her into a Jumper. Slammed the hatch shut. "And I would have expected you to follow up on it." Cursing he moved to the pilot seat. "Strap in!" He powered the ship. Systems flared to life almost violently, as if reacting to his mood. "This is Colonel Sheppard. Open the hatch." He heard the confirmation. Waited. "Moira! Get your pert little ass up here now!"

"No! Damn it, John, what is wrong with you?" she demanded. Staring after him, frozen in place. She stumbled as the ship began to rise off the floor. She could feel the slight vibration in the soles of her feet. "John!" She swore, hastened to the co-pilot's seat and strapped the belt over her. Glared at him. "John!"

"We have a problem, Moira," he informed. Guided the ship up, up, then accelerated towards the blue sky. He zoomed over the city, heading out across the rippling waves of the blue ocean. He brought the HUD to life. "Here's the map. We'll go in thirty klicks due west, dive under, emerge and go from there. I'm detecting no energy readings yet but the scan will run continuously. Shields will be at maximum." He glanced at her.

Moira was staring at him. Brown eyes wide, full of suspicion, alarm. Dread. She kept silent. Body tense. Eyed the viewport as they flew over the waters. The waves were sparkling shades of blue and green. Sunlight danced upon them, almost blinding.

"It's not you, sweetheart. It's me," John finally said, breaking the terse silence.

"Something's happened. To you," she surmised. Gaze locked on the ocean.

"Yes. Here we go. Shielding at maximum." The ship dove slowly into the waves. Submerged. A gentle bump rippled the shield as the water pressure encompassed them. Sunlight grew dim. Dimmer as they dove. The ship's lights flared to life, illuminating the blue waters. Fish swam out of the way, appearing alarmed at this strange intrusion. John activated the HUD. Swerved right. The darkness grew as they dove deeper. Deeper still, towards the bottom. "Approaching the cliffs." He slowed the craft, easing it gently on the bottom of the ocean. "We'll have to wait for the sediment to clear. So far no energy readings." He checked the displays, the map overlapping the scans. The instruments. Avoiding looking at her. "We should be right in front of the ingress point. Just under, down, and up." He paused. "Under. Down. And up." He drew out each word slowly. Deliberately.

Moira shifted in her seat, the sensual undertone unmistakable. She glared at the waters surrounding them, subduing her reactions. "So? Are you going to tell me your problem? Yours. Because it certainly isn't mine!"

"True." He licked his lips. Looked at her. She was staring fixedly at nothing outside the viewport. "You. You were right, Moira. It's gotten...gotten out of control. I don't mean the sex. The sex is fucking amazing! Fantastic! It keeps getting better and better, no matter when, or where, or even how. What position, what rhythm, what–"

"Focus, John!" she snapped. "The problem?" She braced herself. Suspecting what was coming. Knew it had been inevitable. Knew she shouldn't be surprised. Her gut clenched.

"It's not the sex," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "In fact if all we had was the sex everything would be fine. Ironic, huh?"

She sighed. "Care to explain that, John?"

"Things have escalated, Moira," he continued. Staring at her. Glad she wasn't looking at him, but wishing she would at the same time. "We have to...we have to break this off. Now. Trust me. When I start having...having feelings things go south. Fast. You're in love with me, Moira, you've said it yourself. But what's worse is that I...I...I'm in love with you, Moira. And trust me, that's not good. That means things will get worse. They always have when I've let myself fall for someone. So I don't let it happen. But you...you and I have this, I don't know, this connection, this vibe beyond the intense sexual attraction. I've tried to fight it, but I can't. It just gets worse. So that's why. We have to, to end it. End this. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but it's better now then later when we're too deeply involved to make a clean break. You understand, don't you? I mean, you can see the logic of it, right?" He braced himself, expecting tears. Expecting upset expressions.

Moira absorbed it all. Every word, every emotion in his voice. She met his gaze. Angry. Very angry. "That's it? That's the reason?" she snapped, dumbfounded. "Carson was right! You are an idiot!"

"What?" he asked, startled by her vehemence. The lack of tears.

Moira stood. Glaring at him. "You want to break up with me because, God forbid, you actually have feelings for me? That you've, you've fallen in love with me? What the hell is wrong with you, John? What an asinine reason to break us up!"

He scowled. "Look, Moira, I–"

"No! You look! If it was because of this pressure, this flak you keep getting from your bosses I might understand, but I'd think you'd at least have the balls to stand up to them! But this? This? Does it piss you off that I'm not just one of your lots some women, then? That you actually think more of me than just a sexual diversion?"

"Moira! You know I do!" he argued, rising to his feet. Her anger fueling his own.

"Do I? Well, can't you man up and be in a mature relationship with a woman? What are you afraid of? Oh, let me guess...the c word, is that it? Commitment? But you haven't cheated on me yet, have you? Or are you that much of a bastard?"

"What, like you did?" he snapped. Glaring at her. "Although technically it wasn't cheating because it was me, a version of me. But still...look, I've never cheated on you, Moira, I don't do that! It's nothing like that! You don't understand!"

"Damn right I don't! I don't care what went wrong in your past, John! That isn't me! We all have shit like that! I'm not going to hurt you, John! Are you afraid to trust me that far? To have feelings other than sexual ones for a woman?" she taunted.

"No! Damn it! It's better this way, Moira! You have to believe me!"

"No, I don't!" She moved away, turned away from him. Forcing the tears back. Keeping the anger instead of the despair, the sorrow that hovered close to the surface. "Fuck you, John! You can't be man enough to deal with your own feelings! You're just a little boy who only wants to love and leave them!"

"Yeah, that's right, baby!" he agreed, hands on hips as he glared at her back. The fall of her ponytail. Her rear encased in the khaki pants. "I didn't want this shit! I didn't need this shit, okay? All I wanted was that pert little ass, repeatedly! I didn't want you to love me, Moira! I certainly didn't want to love you!"

"I expected nothing less from you, John! Fuck you!" She whirled, glaring at him. "You think you won't be able to get it up now that I'm more to you than just a piece of ass you want!"

"Moira!" He strode to her. "The problem is you are more to me than that! You don't understand!" he flared, grabbing her arms.

She shoved free. "Let go! What do you know about love, anyway? You run away from it like it's a disease! A contagion! Don't you realize that love is what makes our sex so good? So amazing? I bet you can't even get it up now, can you? Now that the great aloof ladies' man might actually have a heart after all!" She hit him. Her fist pounding on his chest. Both fists pounding his chest suddenly until he grabbed her wrists, yanked her into a kiss. Deep. Rough.

"You really want to know if I can get it up, baby?" he taunted. Angry. Aroused.

She yanked her wrists free. Shoved him back from her. "Fuck you, John! You really weren't that good anyway. I wish it had been John Anderson instead of you!"

He spun her round, pushed her against the wall. A shove, but gentle. He grabbed her wrists, pinned them to the wall. Shoved his body against hers. "Like hell you do," he growled into her ear. Breath hot against her skin. "Then fuck me, Moira. No. Let me fuck you. The way I make you come is unlike anything you've ever experienced so don't lie to me!"

She shifted, shoving half-heartedly into him. Angry. Aroused. Uncertain. "So? That doesn't mean a damn thing!"

"It means everything," he argued. He kissed down her throat. Pressing tightly against her rear, insistently. Leaving no doubt he was more than ready to take her. "You know what to say if you want me to stop, baby. Just say the word." He freed her wrists to slide his hands down her back to her rear. To slide between her legs, testing. Probing.

Moira trapped the murmur between her lips, stubbornly silent. Shifting as he stroked. Long fingers questing, seeking her readiness, seducing her need to be the equal of his own. His kisses trailed along her throat again.

"You can't hold it in, baby, so don't even try," he taunted.

"Screw you, sweetie," she breathed heavily, shoving into him. Back arching a little. A small moan escaping her lips. A whimper.

"I think I will, Moira..." he said gruffly. He freed her to touch her waist. Fingers sliding around. Down to undo her pants. To unzip. To thrust his hand into the material. To yank the pants down. Moira gasped, tense. Turned on. Into a breathless, wild desire. He unzipped his pants. Slipped them down. Undid his boxers. He touched her panties at her rear. Fingered the smooth, lacy fabric. Abruptly yanked them down, ripping the fabric on one side. Moira gasped again. Legs parting as she stepped out of the fallen clothing tangled around her shoes.

John pressed close, kissing her throat. He slid his hands up under her shirt, under her bra to caress. To squeeze gently as her nipples hardened. Her silence pissed him off, as she knew it would. He slid his hands down to her hips, yanking her out from the wall. Pushing her into an awkward leaning position. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall again.

Moira gasped, shifted as he thrust into her. Without a word. Without a warning. Without any kind of prelude. Pissing her off as he knew it would. She was helpless, held in place. Could only move her hips as he began a rough but careful motion. She pressed her lips together, deliberately keeping silent but whimpers escaped her ragged breathing.

Not hearing the safe word, or any words John thrust deeper. In and out. Ramming her each time a little harder, but not to hurt her. He groaned as she clenched, tightened over him. As the pleasure grew, grew. The sheer eroticism of taking her like this, roughly, intensely. Her tightness a barrier to cross. Her wetness a lubricant to guide him deeper. Deeper still. He moaned, moving faster, increasing the momentum. He freed her wrists to run his hands up her shirt. Under it. Shoving the bra aside to grab her breasts.

Moira grabbed onto the wall as each thrust pushed her, pushed her. He was sliding all over places not usually rubbed and the erotic pleasure was overwhelming. A moan escaped. A whimper. A wordless gasping as he increased the pace. He freed her breasts to grab her hips. To guide her into a deeper lean, pulling her onto him with a groaning exhalation as orgasm hit. Hit hard.

"Moira, oh Moira! Oh fuck fuck fuck!" he snarled, coming hard, fast.

Moira clung to the wall, legs splayed. A cry escaped. Another. The orgasms hit in quick succession with each thrust. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she cried, unable to keep silent. Helpless as he brought her relentlessly, thoroughly. Suddenly she was shoved up straighter. Hit the wall as he thrust once more. Groaning loudly, a shudder coursing along his body. She tensed as the last climax slammed into her. "John! Oh John!" she sobbed in a trembling release.

John was breathing deeply, strength flagging. He pulled out of her. Leaned against her, resting. "Moira." His hot voice tickled her skin, her hair. "Oh God...Moira..I told you it was a turn-on."

Moira tried to catch her breath. To move but John was pressed up against her still. She shifted. Felt trickles sliding down her bare thighs. "John...you...you..." She couldn't find words. Astounded at the sex, the unbridled passion between them despite or because of the argument. The break-up. She shifted against him. "John?"

He stepped back, spun her into his arms. Kiss after kiss, deep and probing. He guided her back to the seats where he collapsed. Pulled her to straddle him. His hand ran up her back under the shirt. Then down to her rear to caress. To squeeze. "Ow!" He drew back, lips sore. "We should break up more often, baby."

"Shut up, John!" she snarled. Hit his shoulder. "I hate you." But she kissed him. Ran her mouth up his throat. To circle his ear until he groaned. She leaned upon his chest, resting. Closed her eyes a moment, pretending the moment would last forever.

He scooted back to recline, giving her more room. Also more access as she pressed directly onto him. He was trapped under her, feeling every intimacy they had just shared. His fingers slid up to play with her messy ponytail. "Moira, still think I can't get it up?" he teased. But his expression was serious, nearly grave as he stared past her at the wall.

"Fuck you, John," she said, caressing his chest. Opening her eyes. "Fuck you for taking this from us. For ruining everything," she muttered. Forcing the tears away so he wouldn't see. She started to rock on him. Feeling his erection growing under her.

"Moira, please do," he invited. Drew her lips to his to catch in a gentle kiss. He yanked up her shirt and bra. Ran his mouth along her breasts. Tongue teasing. Lingering on the taste of her skin.

Moira's back arched as she moaned. Startled he was becoming hard under her. So quickly. She shoved him, let her shirt fall back down over her. Began to gyrate on him. Building a spiraling desire. A hunger that came from both love and desperation. Her hands slid under his shirt, needing to feel bare skin, chest hair. She ran her nails sharply down to his waist. He moaned in surprise, in desire. Their gazes locked as if in some strange erotic contest.

She grabbed his shoulders to rise. To free him, then envelope him as she took him inside her. "John...do you need to say the safe word? I'll stop if you say it," she offered. Her voice a breathless tease. She moved up and down as the more familiar sensations rocked. Rocked.

John smiled. Caught her hips, her rear to squeeze. To guide. To support. "Ah, Moira...faster. Harder, baby. Fuck me like you keep saying," he replied gruffly, enjoying the feel of her taking him repeatedly. The hot, moist friction only arousing him more. And more.

Moira rode him. She looked over his shoulder, stared at the viewport. Pale white bodies were surrounding it. Only held back by the shield. Pale, pale breasts, pale crotches. Faces covered by hair or seaweed but a few Wraith features were discernible. Moira tensed but glared at them. A fierce possessiveness made her move faster. Lean back to take all of him into her, to encourage his thrusts. She tightened her muscles around him, relentless.

John groaned loudly, pain and pleasure colliding as she was both rushing him to release but crushing his balls at the same time. He shifted, thrusting up into her, nearly shoving her off him but keeping her in place. Her muscles tightened, eased. Tightened. Eased. Excruciating pleasure made him jerk, shudder, tense all at once. "Fuck!" he snarled.

Moira's movements became a frenzy, and she whimpered, moaned loudly. Hands grasping his shoulders tightly. His hands squeezed her rear. He saw her gaze directed elsewhere, wondered at her sudden intensity. He looked over his shoulder at the viewport. Stared. "Wha–"

"No!" She turned his head to hers, kissed him. Hard. Catching his entire attention as he came inside her. He groaned into her mouth, shuddering. Moira broke the kiss to cry out. "John!" she exulted, degenerating into inarticulate ecstasy as the orgasms slammed wildy. She nearly fell backwards but he caught her, drew her to him. Kissing her with almost savage intensity. Shoving his tongue into her mouth as he thrust once more into her.

John took over as she tensed, trembled helplessly, lost in pure physical pleasure. He slowed their motions. Gentled his kisses. Lifted her to free himself with a moan. Then set her upon his lap again. Drew her against him, caressing her back as she clung, exhausted. "Moira...my Moira...my God..." he rasped. Closed his eyes a moment as pleasant weariness assailed him. Sated. So sated he could have fallen asleep right then, with her sprawled on his lap. Sweat trickled under his clothes. His lap sodden with their joining. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered.

Moira breathed heavily, breasts heaving against his chest. Too tired to close her legs, to move. One of his hands still firmly on her naked rear, the other on her thigh. She wondered at her reaction to those watching, dangerous creatures. Stimulating her to go wild, rough, to make him solely hers. Even though he had seemingly ended their relationship. Making him entirely hers to pleasure, to own. She nuzzled his throat. Soft kisses along his skin as she relaxed her hold on his shoulders. "John...John..." she whispered.

"We need to break up more often," he said between heavy breaths, "if it leads to this exquisite, angry sex. Maybe it's better if we are broken up, Moira. What do you think?"

Moira sighed. Kissed him. Sat to look over his shoulder. "I still think you're an idiot, John." The viewport was empty. She relaxed, but frowned. Met his gaze. "I still hate you. We...are we...are we still–"

"Broken up?" he finished for her. Kissed her. "Yes. It's for the best, Moira...and let's face it, this goodbye sex will be impossible to top. Impossible."