&fic;

 

on a good day

by sugargroupie

R, 593 words

Summary: he is occasionally stupid when it comes to Aeryn.

Disclaimer: Not mine; O'Bannon, Henson, Kemper, et. al.

Notes: Set during season two, with thanks to Kernezelda for the super fast beta. Written for Stars as a birthday ficlet.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

John ends up on his back on the floor of her room, twice in as many days, because he is occasionally stupid when it comes to Aeryn. He's slowly learning to read her moods, and on a good day, he can tell when she's more likely to run hot and cold on him before it actually happens. On a good day.

John feels safe in assuming that today is shaping up to be one of those days.

Yesterday, however, was hit or miss.

(The day before, he'd lifted one wavering finger to D'Argo, silently translating, "gimme a minute," as he fought to recapture his breath from being body-slammed on the floor by Aeryn. D'Argo'd had his standard response down to a science; simply shook his head and intoned, "Crichton, when will you learn?" like John was the village idiot.

The leviathan idiot, maybe.

In hindsight, Aeryn's body language had been screaming at him to back off, but he'd completely missed the signals. And for his trouble, his back had hurt like a sonofabitch for most of the day.)

He bites his lip nearly hard enough to break the skin as she rocks her hips just enough to slide down, tight and wet and jesus. John forces yesterday's events to the back of his mind because none of it matters. She's not pushing him away now.

Aeryn slides his hands up her rib cage to cup her breasts and he squeezes while she braces her arms on either side of his head. Her nipples are pink and hard beneath his fingers, and he can't wait to put his mouth on her. She begins to fuck him slowly first, shifting her hips until only the tip of him remains inside and then shoving herself back down. Her breath is warm and soft hitching against his cheek, hair spilling over them both as she rides him.

John skims his fingers down her waist and around her back to cup her ass, his short nails digging into the firm flesh with each roll of her hips, encouraging her to fuck him harder. He has never been so grateful that Aeryn loves a challenge.

John opens his mouth; to say what, exactly, is a mystery. The most he can manage is a deep groan that fades out completely when Aeryn covers his lips with her fingers. He licks them instead and grabs her hips with both hands, hangs on as she rides him. The last thing John wants to do is rush her because this rarely happens. She always keeps him at arms length, always stays two steps ahead of him.

And he gets it; because if she's feeling even half of what he feels every day just being around her, then it would scare the hell out of him as well if their roles were reversed.

But John can be patient, wade through the rough spots with Aeryn as she gets her sea legs. For more nights like this, with her wrapped around him, leaving no patch of skin untouched, he'd wait forever.

And that scares the hell out of him.

He's saved from that train of thought by Aeryn's mouth, her teeth biting his lip gently before pulling him into a deep kiss. Her hands cup his cheeks and slide into the back of his hair, holding his head. John is so far gone, cracking his head on the floor is the least of his concerns.

On an even better day, he thinks they would continue round two in her much softer bed. There's always tomorrow.

*

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