Rose Wilde-Irish (rosewildeirish) wrote,
Rose Wilde-Irish

fic - Treason (S/W, for qwirky)

Title: Treason
Author: Rose Wilde-Irish
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: Adult
Summary: "Once again, President Kinsey, assassinated at eight forty-three this morning.
Notes: For qwirky. AU. Thanks to pierson, dark_cygnet, mspooh and kyrdwyn.

"Once again, President Kinsey, assassinated this morning at ten twenty three. Federal officials caution that his assailants are still at large; D.C. and surrounding areas are under martial law. Vice President Tanith could not be reached for comment-"

"They did it," John said, wonder in his voice. "They actually did it." He began to laugh, stopping when Elizabeth reached out to touch his arm. The skin under her fingers was warm and smooth over the cords of his muscles, and she fought off the urge to stroke it.

"What next?" she asked, watching him closely.

He looked stunned. "I...that's not up to me," he said. "We should get you to the others – I'm sure as his Press Secretary, you have information they can use."

"I'm not so sure about that," Elizabeth said bitterly. For a moment, she remembered the naïve woman who'd signed the devil's deal, convinced she could make a difference. She frowned, knowing she'd accomplished nothing; had in fact done more harm than good to those she'd hoped to champion.

John shifted, pulling his arm away from her hand and wrapping it around her. "Hammond, O'Neill and Landry can pull more out of you than you'd think," he said. He drew her in close, stroking her arm soothingly. She looked over at him, noting that even as he comforted her, a part of him was remote, planning.

"John," she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Don't shut me out. Not now."

His eyes locked with hers, warming. "Okay," he said, leaning into her touch. He exhaled slowly. "I was just figuring out how we're going to get out of here. We're going to have to keep you hidden – your face is too well known around here. Once we get out of D.C., we can contact the others and arrange a rendezvous."

She smiled at him, amazed, and shook her head. "Do you ever stop with the strategy?"

He regarded her, something breaking loose behind his eyes. "I've been known to." She was suddenly aware of his body where it pressed against hers, of her own where he did not. She cleared her throat, pulling her thoughts together.

"And when you decided to trust me?" she asked, quietly.

His gaze locked on hers and the heat was almost a physical thing. "Strategy sometimes utilizes gut feelings."

She smiled, feeling warmth and a kind of happiness she hadn't felt since coming to Washington suffuse through her. She leaned into him on the too-soft hotel bed, seeking his warmth and more. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him, leaning up to kiss her.

It was different from the other kisses they'd shared. Those had seemed determined to seduce, almost impersonal. This was anything but, starting gentle and growing in heat and desire. His arms held her tight against him, as though to keep her from leaving.

She didn't want to leave. It scared her, how much she wanted the rakish ex-military man beneath her. A part of her wondered if she would have gone against president and country for him, even if she hadn't already been convinced of this institution's inner corruption and greed. She shivered as she realized she didn't know the answer.

John pulled his head back and regarded her, hands tightening around her. "Okay?" he asked.

She smiled. "More than okay. Just...brave new world."

"We can..." His voice trailed off, expression solemn, and she knew he was giving her the chance to back out gracefully. She met his gaze, unblinking, and reached out a hand to stroke his face.

"You've waited long enough to seduce and disarm, don't you think?" His lips curved into a smile and he gave a single nod. His hands traced patterns on her back lightly, ducking to the hemline of her shirt and lifting it up. She shifted, raising up slightly and sliding her legs to straddle him. He pulled her shirt off and leaned up to nip her collarbone, making her gasp and rock against him. She reached for his shirt, yanking it off and revealing his grin.

"Sure that's me that's been waiting long enough?" he asked. She responded by tickling him, making him squirm and twist until she found herself underneath him. For a long beat he simply stared into her eyes, expression solemn again. "You are full of surprises, Elizabeth Weir," he said softly.

She smiled. "I could say the same about you," she said, and almost said more, but he shifted against her, and the feel of skin and cloth consumed her. Her breath hitched and she ran her hands down his back, fingers sliding along his waistband before cupping his curves, pulling him tight against her. He groaned, hips rocking lightly as his hands traced the lines of her bra around her sides and slipping under her back. She lifted up as he reached under, working at the clasp. His eyes unfocused and frustration lined his face as he fought with the errant clothing, and she was unable to bite back a giggle as the tip of his tongue made an appearance. He blinked as the clasp came free, refocusing on her face.

"I'd take offense except that feels pretty damned good," he murmured, sliding her bra free and pressing against her.

"So do you," she said, reaching for his pants. He moved with her, helping to remove the rest of their clothes, then paused, an oddly reverent look on his face as he regarded her.

"What?" she asked, smiling.

"Just enjoying the view," he said, and she had no idea how he was able to pull off lines like that, but she couldn't deny the little extra jolt that raced through her. She reached up and stroked his cheek, watching the shifting of his thoughts behind his eyes. He fascinated her, drawing her in a way that circumvented all thought and logic. He leaned into her caress and she knew she was gone, lost; his. Her lips felt hot, heavy with the need to kiss his. They almost tingled.

"Elizabeth," John's voice contained so much that she can't quite interpret, but she knew it meant something. The quiet awe alone cut into her, and she abandoned the waiting game, pulling him close and kissing him hard. He returned the kiss, moving against her and it felt both good and right and Elizabeth was suddenly aware again of the long drought, of the endless nights of celibacy since coming to Washington, leaving her last boyfriend behind.

The feel of his hands on her, the drag of his body against her own heated her blood, and she broke off their kiss to moan. His breath hit her cheek, warm and ragged, and she wanted him inside her, now, no more teasing.

Their entire relationship up to this moment had been foreplay, she realized.

"John, please," she begged, and his eyes flickered shut as he froze against her for three agonizing beats of her heart. He opened his eyes, no trace of laziness present in them now, and kissed her as his hands slid down and under her thighs, lifting her legs up as his cock brushed against her. She gasped, pulling him to her and raising her hips up. The half-shock of his entry sent a fresh wave of desire through her and she wrapped her arms tighter, encouraging him.

"God," he gasped, resting his forehead against hers. He blinked, and she was shocked by how bright his eyes seemed, how alive he seemed. During most of his interactions he had a lazy ease that functioned as a shield; she only glimpsed this John briefly before, when he'd given her the barest outline of the treason his cabal had planned. "I wanted this the moment I laid eyes on you," he said, shifting deeper within her.

She groaned, hands on his back sliding lower. "That why you didn't seduce me as planned?" She clenched around him and he hissed, breath hot against her neck before his teeth claimed skin.

"That's part of it," he murmured, pulling back and letting his gaze sweep between them. His eyes met hers as he pushed in again, making her gasp as pleasure spiked through her. Her hands followed the dip of his back to the curve of his rear, pulling him closer, encouraging him with the arch of her back. "Oh God," he said as he moved against her, within her, "you feel so good." The weight of his voice, the shiver in it, pulsed through her with as much pleasure as his touch. She wrapped her legs around him and began to move with him, matching his rhythm, letting the feel of him as he thrust inside her overwhelm her. He pulled back and stopped, dragging needy sounds out of her. She opened her eyes to meet his, and was shocked by the intensity of emotion there. He kissed her, tenderness slowly transforming into need, leaving her gasping and pleading. He thrust in hard, crying out, and started a hard and fast rhythm that left her gasping, unable to think beyond the way her body hummed with pleasure, the way her blood surged. John nuzzled her, kissing her neck and biting down, his hands stroking her, everything building within her until she felt it all consuming her and she lost herself to his ministrations, crying out as she came. Her hands had made their way to his shoulders and were digging in, clenching hard, and John groaned as he drove in deep and hard, his own orgasm following quickly. He collapsed against her, panting harshly by her ear, and she could feel the racing of his heart.

She wound her fingers through his hair and stroked, kissing his forehead. "John," she said.

"Elizabeth," he answered, making her smile. They clung together, still joined as he subsided within her, and she stroked his skin, slick with light sheen of sweat. He turned his head, catching her in a kiss that was much sweeter than any they'd shared before.

She froze as the low voice from the television intruded, penetrating her thoughts with his familiar tones.

"Thank you," the well-oiled voice of President Kinsey was saying. "Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

John pulled out and away from her in a shot, rolling and standing before she'd barely registered more than How? and Please, God, no. She couldn't see his face but knew it had to be set in tight, angry lines; instead, she reached for her clothes, pulling them on rapidly as he did the same. Kinsey on the television droned on, and she filed what he said, knowing she'd need it later, but for now she could only think of fleeing, escaping, getting out.

She grabbed her bag and briefcase and caught John's hand in hers, noting his intense scrutiny of the television. A strange flicker of light seemed to envelop Kinsey's eyes, making them appear to glow, and he cursed. "It can't be," he said, but she was already heading for the door, dragging him behind.

"Come on," she said. "They'll be here any second."

He didn't question her, instead pulling out his cell phone and flipping it open. "Did you see it?" he asked, mouth grim. "Okay. Pick up the laundry on the way home, would you?"

She pulled him to the stairwell door and paused, locking eyes with him. He nodded, giving her the smallest of smiles as he pulled the door open and checked it, and she drew in a deep breath before beginning their flight.

Tags: au, fic, s/w, sga, sparky
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