lunabee34

Elizabeth wonders if John is on to her little game, if he realizes she’s aware he’s watching her. She doesn’t think so, but then again, she’s never been very good at reading John. He seems so closed off, so unapproachable—like he’s had his guard up for so long he doesn’t remember how to let go and just relax.

Elizabeth is very relaxed at the moment.

Two months ago, Rodney found the Ancient baths—three beautifully tiled ceramic pools filled with sea water that ranges in temperature from warm in the first to absolutely frigid in the last. Elizabeth decided that the baths would be open to the public and subject to swimming pool attire during daylight hours. But at night, the baths become private, and expedition members can reserve them for an evening to actually bathe in. Or whatever else may interest them. Elizabeth is pretty sure Teyla isn’t really teaching Kate “Athosian Water Meditation Techniques” on the nights the two of them have reserved.

Right now, Elizabeth soaks in warm water, gentle currents caressing her nude body. Her eyes are almost closed, half-lidded, but she can see John’s shadow on the wall through the curtain of her lashes. She’s ready to begin.

Elizabeth fills her palms with shower gel and rubs them together. Normally, she’d use a washcloth to bathe, but Elizabeth wants John to see her hands on her own body, wants him to pretend that he’s touching her the way she’s touching herself. She slides her soap slick hands across her breasts, down the curve of her belly and across her thighs, her skin glistening in the half-light. Elizabeth hears the harsh rasp of John’s breath echo once in the otherwise quiet room, and she nearly smiles before she catches herself.

This—John Sheppard concealed in the darkness, holding his breath, needing to watch her—this is the kind of power no one ever told Elizabeth she wanted. But she does. Oh, she does.

Elizabeth swims to the steps of the first pool and drapes herself across them, her legs splayed open to the corner where John is hiding. She wants him to have a clear view. Elizabeth cups her breasts and slowly, slowly, draws circles around her nipples with her thumbs until she aches. She pinches one nipple, hard, and the tiny noise she makes in the back of her throat seems loud and obscene.

Elizabeth wonders what John is doing, if he’s touching himself right now. She imagines him sliding down the zipper on his BDUs—quietly, carefully. He doesn’t want her to hear him. John reaches inside his pants and pulls out his cock. He lets Elizabeth set the pace, jerking himself off just as slowly as her fingers move on her clit. John throws back his head when he comes, and his face is beautiful. Elizabeth can see it now, even with her eyes closed. When Elizabeth comes, she buries three fingers to the hilt inside her pussy, her muscles clenching tightly around them, her breath ragged and raw.

Then she steps out of the first pool and jumps into the last. Elizabeth imagines that this is John’s favorite part, when she emerges from the cold water, her nipples contracted into hard points, her skin steaming, her hands trembling as she towels dry. Elizabeth feels utterly alive.

One day, one day not too far in the future, Elizabeth will call out John’s name, or she’ll pull him from his hiding place and into her arms, and then she’ll know for certain what John knows, what he wants, where this is going. From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth sees John leave, a black shadow skulking in the farthest reaches of the room, an almost silent footfall as he exits. "Soon," Elizabeth thinks. "Soon."