Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 600 words
Normally Lennier would have called ahead, but it was late, and he did not wish to wake Delenn. She did not always remember to turn off automatic notifications on her Babcom, especially if it were at the end of a long and busy day, which today most certainly was. There had been a long, drawn-out meeting with the League of Non-Aligned Worlds; it had begun with most of the diplomats and ambassadors already on edge, and had ended with insults, threats, and acrimonious recriminations. Lennier had seen Delenn and Captain Sheridan share a meaningful look at the end of the meeting, one that to him seemed to communicate their desire to be anywhere but those chambers. He could not blame them.
So it was late, and he had no doubt Delenn was sleeping. Lennier decided to slip into her quarters as quietly as possible and leave tomorrow's agenda on the counter, as he had done a handful of times before, when circumstances would not allow them to meet in the morning to go over her day's schedule. The door had barely snicked closed when he was bombarded by horrible sounds emanating from her bed chamber – growls and snarls, the slap of flesh striking flesh. His first thought, ridiculous as it may have seemed to a rational mind, was that she was being attacked by a wild beast.
Lennier rushed forward, soundless, hands raised in preparation. Through the crack between the not-entirely closed frosted doors, he could see into the chamber. He froze, and later he was glad that he did; it certainly ended up sparing her a great deal of later embarrassment. What he saw burned into his brain almost immediately – it would be quite awhile before he would be able to drive the images away, and only then after much meditation.
It appeared he had not been mistaken: she was being attacked by a wild animal. Of sorts. Delenn faced her bed, her body bare, leaning forward with her hands braced against the surface. Sheridan stood behind, also naked, grabbing Delenn's hips with a rough grip that couldn't be anything but painful. He was the one making the sounds, bestial grunts interspersed with what Lennier knew to be Human curses. The man was thrusting his hips hard against Delenn's buttocks, and Lennier realized, with a slow dawning wave of something that approached nausea, that he was driving his organ inside of her.
Lennier took a step forward, meaning to tear the Human away. The violence he was subjecting Delenn to seemed unimaginable. But before he could do much more than take that one single step, he heard Delenn's voice as she cried out. “Oh, John. Yes, yes, please.” He had never heard Delenn sound like that, did not in fact know that she could sound like that. Now Lennier saw the scene more clearly: each time the Human rocked his hips forward, Delenn rocked hers back to meet him. She was making sounds of her own, as well, sounds that communicated unmistakeable pleasure. Sheridan released his grip on her hips to slide his hands over her skin in a caress. Lennier felt a sudden, sharp surge of jealousy. Would that he could touch her in such a way, so knowingly, so intimately.
It was at that thought that he removed himself, returning silently to the main door. He waited for another loud cry to drown out the sound of the door's opening and closing, and left the two of them to their sin.
Title: Saying Goodnight
Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 1600 words
First she had met him in the garden, told him about star stuff. Then she had asked him out to dinner, and they had talked about humor and intelligence. Before John knew it, he was spending nearly every other night with Delenn. Sometimes it was as simple as walking her back to her quarters after a meeting. Sometimes it was filling out paperwork while she tapped out a message across the table, mostly-empty take-out containers strewn between them. A few times it was something more demonstrably romantic – watching a vid at her quarters, sitting side by side on the couch, and by the end his arm was around her waist though he couldn't remember when exactly it had happened.
John kissed her once, just a peck on the lips, the kind of goodnight kiss you might give someone who's just a friend, but they both knew it was more than that, even if they didn't talk about it.
Somehow, in the space of about three weeks, he ended up with a half-alien girlfriend, even though neither of them ever used the word “date.” (She may not have known that word, though; he had to be fair.) He didn't hold her hand as they walked from here to there, they behaved with impeccable decorum at all times, and even in their respective quarters they mostly kept themselves to comfortable though not yet overly familiar third-or-fourth-date conversation. Still, John didn't kid himself. He was falling, falling in a way he hadn't fallen ever before, not with a slam of passion to his gut or with a giddy sort of rush, but in an almost inevitable way, the feeling of coming home after a long absence.
He hadn't called ahead tonight, and the only reason he was in Green Sector at all was because he was on his way back to Blue. John decided to stop by, just to say goodnight, just to see her for a minute or two, and if he was thinking about maybe sneaking another quick kiss, well, there was no harm in hoping.
He rang. There was a pause, and then he heard her voice through the call box. It was brusque, almost confrontational. “Yes?” John thought for a second about just leaving – she didn't sound in a very good mood. “It's me,” he said. There was another pause, this one much longer. It went on so long he thought maybe he needed to clarify who exactly “me” was, but then she answered. “Just a moment.”
About fifteen seconds later, the door opened, and he entered, looking around for her. The room was empty. “Delenn?” he asked, rubbing his thumb anxiously against his index finger, hoping that everything was okay. He hadn't seen her for two days. Surely she wasn't upset with him about something? She came out of her bedroom tying a robe around her waist, and she didn't look upset, though she did seem a bit preoccupied. Her hair was wet, stubborn strands clinging to her face and neck. There was a rosy glow in her cheeks that spoke to a nice, long, hot shower; he could smell her shampoo from across the room.
“Hi,” he said dumbly, wincing at the chirp he could hear in his own voice. Delenn's smile was warm and a little shy. She was always so put together, with her formal robes and carefully-arranged everything; it was almost a shock to see her like this. John memorized all that he saw, knowing that he would return to his quarters and jerk off to this memory, and that was crossing a line, too – once you started to wank to the thoughts of a specific girl, thinking of specific things you wanted to do to that specific girl, knowing that you had to see and work with that specific girl on a regular basis, well, there was no coming back from that.
“Hello,” she murmured back. She was fiddling with the tie on her robe, sliding it back and forth between her fingers. John swallowed against a sudden tightness in his throat. “I'm just going to brush out my hair...” she said, pointing to the back. He nodded, and she nodded, and then she left him, carefully sliding the French doors closed behind her.
He hadn't meant to interrupt her evening routine. He thought about just calling out goodnight and going, but that seemed rude now. Instead, he wandered over to the couch, after examining one of the crystal doo-dads on a table, and sat down. He hadn't realized how tired he was until he let himself relax a little bit. He could hear some faint noises coming from the other room. Was she drying her hair, too? John wondered how long she'd leave him out here to wait, and why she thought he'd stopped by.
Not really poking around, just bored, John looked to the little end table beside the couch. There was a tube of something lying there. He picked it up, idly curious. He stared at it for a good three seconds before he realized it was lubricant. Personal lubricant. Personal lady part lubricant.
He was still staring at it when Delenn walked back into the front room.
“John,” she managed in a breathy gasp, as though the air had been knocked out of her. “I...” She trailed off in such a way that told him she had never had anything to say in the first place. There were two spots of bright pink on her cheeks, matching the flush creeping up her neck.
He quickly put two and two together. The barked-out “yes?” when he'd rang. The long pauses before she finally let him in. The rosy cheeks, the way she'd fiddled with her robe.
There was a decision to be made. She was still just standing there, staring at him. He could see mortification creeping its way up her spine, and knew that if he didn't make the right choice, it might screw things up between them, maybe for a long time.
John scooted so his back was firmly against the back of the couch, making sure there was plenty of room in front of him. He spread his legs some, then smacked the cushion between them. “Sit,” he said. Delenn just kept looking at him. “Come on, sit down.”
“Sit down, Delenn.” He unscrewed the top of the lube and set the tube on the armrest beside him, ready. She studied him, face unreadable. The restless fingers stilled on the tie of her robe. She stepped forward, turning and sitting gracefully in front of him. Outwardly she seemed calm, but he could hear her breathing, the way it had picked up, and her body seemed to vibrate as he ran his hands over her shoulders, gently rubbing them. John leaned forward enough to push his nose into her damp hair, take in a nice deep sniff. Then he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her back, so that her body was flush against his.
Delenn made a choked sound in her throat, but she didn't say a word. When John reached down to the front of her robe, she parted her knees for him, letting him draw her legs up and to either side of his own. He could see down the front of her robe, at all the lovely cleavage down that way. But beyond that, the folds of fabric obscured everything else. It was more erotic, somehow, that she was still basically clothed.
He spread some lube on the first two fingers on his left hand, then rested the hand on her knee. With his right hand, he gently caressed her inner thighs, the skin so soft he could hardly stand it. Her breathing officially became panting, but she still didn't say anything.
John lowered his left hand with deliberate slowness, teasing the moment out. She raised her hips up, a little jolt seeming to run through her body. The sight made his already-hard cock get even harder. He found her wet and swollen, but he still took his time rubbing the lube over her. Delenn started rocking her hips in earnest, breath catching on each inhale in a way that threatened to undo him. She put one hand over his, over the one moving between her legs; the other she put up to the back of his head, drawing him down for a kiss.
They found the right rhythm together, of his tongue moving against hers, of his fingers slipping inside her, of his thumb rubbing against her clitoris. When she came, it was something that he felt more keenly than he'd felt any of his own orgasms in years and years. John kept his hand cupped against her, letting her come down slowly, drawing their kisses out until they were something so slow and languid he lost all sense of time. Finally, she broke the kiss, leaning her head back against his shoulder. John wrapped both his arms around her waist, holding her close.
“I just stopped by to say goodnight,” he said, and she laughed. It was a laugh full of satisfaction, a sleepy, well-tended laugh.
“I was thinking of you. Before,” she confided. She turned in his arms enough to look at him, and with a smile she slid a hand down his front, finding the evidence of his own desire.
“What were you thinking about?” he asked, closing his eyes as she stroked him through his trousers.
“Come back to my bedroom and I'll show you,” she whispered into his ear, punctuating the sentence with a lick. John followed obediently.
Title: Getting Lucky
Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 2100 words
“They locked our quarters?” John was painfully aware of Delenn watching him from her seat beside him, and even more painfully aware of the way his voice had nearly squeaked in outrage. “Did you try and jimmy the lock?”
Ivanova assured him over the link that she had tried, had used every trick up her sleeve (which John knew to outnumber his own), that she had even enlisted the Chief Station Mechanic, and short of unhooking the power and hand-cranking the door, leaving it without a lock, there was no way they were getting inside.
“I'm gonna stay with Sasha tonight,” Susan said. Since she wasn't in the room with him, he let himself smile. Sasha was a fairly new pilot, and her crush on the station's XO was epic and widely known. Ivanova had no doubt heard the news in her presence and had been unable to decline once the pretty young girl learned she had nowhere else to stay.
“I hope Sasha gets lucky,” he said, meaning it.
“Oh, shut up. What about you?”
“I hope I get lucky, too,” he smarted back without thinking, and then he clicked off the link and turned, seeing Delenn's wide gray eyes watching him with no small amount of amusement.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “To get lucky?”
“It's a rude Human expression.”
“I assumed. What does it mean?” Delenn had taken down her hair, letting it fall in loose curls around her face. She had taken off her shoes, tucking her bare feet under her on the couch. She was still wearing the black velvet dress that hugged every single curve of her body, and revealed a few at that. She looked positively edible, and oh, how John wanted to have a taste.
“I need to figure out where I'm gonna stay tonight,” he said, starting to rise. Delenn put a hand on his arm, shaking her head.
“You will stay here,” she said, as though that ended the discussion entirely, and he supposed that it did. “You are also avoiding the question. What does the expression mean, to get lucky?”
John sighed. Normally he wouldn't have minded being the one to introduce an alien to the vast cornucopia of Human sexual euphemism, but the thought of explaining these things to Delenn made him feel a bit dirty, and slightly ashamed of his species.
“It means to score,” he said with a grin. There was a smile on her face, too, a bright smile that would have guided ships on stormy nights. “To get some.”
Delenn laughed. “Why do Humans view intercourse as some kind of commodity to be won?”
“You knew what it meant!”
“Of course I knew what it meant. It is all that your species talks about.”
“That's not true. Sometimes we talk about food.” Delenn hummed at that. She had turned to face him completely, leaning against the back of her couch. The position had pushed her right breast up and in, doing wonderful things to her decolletage. John resolutely dragged his eyes back up to her face. From the quirk at the corner of her mouth, he wasn't sure he'd done so in time. “Sex is...important to Humans,” he tried to explain, hoping to drag this conversation back to a more serious place. He wasn't sure it was appropriate to flirt with the Minbari ambassador. At least, not that much.
“Why?” she asked, and it was a genuine question.
John thought about it. It was odd that he didn't have an answer that just rolled off his tongue. Why was sex important? “It's a way for people to share their love for each other. It's a very close experience, very intimate. Is it not that way for Minbari?”
“It is. But Humans share sexual relations so easily, it seems. They do not wait to be officially and permanently mated. They go through very few rituals first, to assure their compatibility. How meaningful an experience can it be if is one you partake in after knowing someone for such a short period of time?”
Burn. John suddenly felt as though he were defending the entire Human race from the charge of shameful promiscuity. The sad thing is, he wasn't entirely sure if she were wrong. “There are different kinds of sex,” he said lamely. She answered with a look, raising her eyebrow, which was a neat trick, since she didn't actually have any. “When I...” John trailed off, not sure he wanted to have this discussion. But she said she wanted to know more about Humans, and this was definitely part of that. Besides, he needed to be okay with talking about it, after all this time. “When I slept with my wife on our wedding night, it was a transcendent experience. It was something beautiful, timeless. When I slept with her on our first date, that was different. It was...fun. Exciting. And it felt really good.”
He couldn't quite interpret the look on her face, but he thought Delenn was intrigued. “You were intimate with her on your first date?” John nodded. “And what exactly is a 'date'?” she asked in a quick, low tone.
“This. What we did tonight. You didn't know you asked me out on a date?” The way she looked down at her hands, biting her lower lip, was all the answer he needed. That, and the black velvet dress. “I take it that's something a Minbari would never do.”
“No. But...Minbari do not feel...” She shook her head, and he didn't know if she didn't know the words, or if she were too uncomfortable to say them. “Our biology is different. Their biology. I don't know.”
John hadn't really considered how her biology worked these days, beyond the obvious changes – the hair, the smaller head bone, the more delicate eyebrow ridge. Now that he thought about it, he was insanely curious. Was she implying she was more like Humans these days?
“Minbari don't become physically aroused as easily,” he offered, and she nodded, still watching her hands. Because of the cut-out in her dress, John could see the way a delicate flush was working its way up the creamy skin of her chest. Another question answered, he thought.
“We have a ritual. It is called the shan'fal. It is a way for two Minbari who have grown very close, and have moved down the path toward a permanent connection of minds and spirits, to learn whether they are physically compatible. To arouse a Minbari's body, one must find specific pleasure centers, learn how to...stimulate them. It is not a matter of simply touching one another.”
“Not like Humans.”
She nodded, and then raised her eyes to his again. There was something intensely vulnerable about her at that moment, and John moved his hand to cover hers, meaning to comfort her. The feel of her skin was electric, and before he knew what was happening, she surged toward him, finding her way into his lap, her mouth seeking his out. Her kisses were halting, inexperienced, and so goddamned perfect he thought he might die. He finally put his hands into her hair, having thought about it all night. She moaned into his mouth, pressing her body against him, and John devoutly thanked EarthGov for locking him out of his room.
Delenn finally came up for air, clutching at his shoulders as she rested her chin atop his head. John pressed a line of soft, soft kisses on the skin of her chest, the diamond exposed by the cut-out in her dress. “I've never felt like this before,” she said, voice shaky. “I didn't know...”
“Let me show you,” he said, hooking a finger into the fabric, drawing it aside to kiss the swell of her breast. She sighed, and John moved his hands to the back of her dress, searching for the zipper.
Delenn slid back and off his lap, pushing his arms away.
“I'm sorry,” he stammered. Oh, he had fucked it up. But she was shaking her head wildly, and then she leaned back to kiss him again, a wonderfully wet and sloppy kiss, her hands on the sides of his face.
“No, no, no,” she whispered. “I just...” John waited, hands at his sides, dying to touch her but making himself be patient. He had no idea what this all felt like for her. Minbari apparently would not have been aroused by what they had just done, so to her, it must seem almost overwhelming. He was so horny he thought the top of his head might come off, and he'd been around the block more than a few times. This was, essentially, her first time, and looking at her, at the way her eyes were dilated, the heave of her chest as she sucked in air, the way her fingers trembled on his cheeks, John was certain she was already on the edge.
“I do not wish to have intercourse tonight,” she finally said. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...” She leaned back again, then turned so she didn't face his way anymore. Her pose now was almost demure, with her knees firmly together, her hands clasped in her lap. She was betrayed by the tousled hair, though, her soft, kiss-swollen lips.
“Okay,” John said, everything suddenly crystal clear. She looked at him, surprised. “Not all sex has to be sex.” Now her surprise turned into confusion. John stood, then sank to his knees in front of her. He rested his hands atop her thighs, just above her knees. She jumped a bit (yes, definitely on the edge), then stilled, waiting. John moved his thumbs in circles, barely caressing her through the velvet. Trying to relax her. “If you want me to stop at any time, just tell me to stop. Okay?”
Delenn nodded. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, moving them up a little further each time, the dress sliding up as well. When her knees were exposed, he dropped kisses on each. Soft, delicate. He kissed his way down to the sides of her knees, and she parted her legs just enough for him to work his head between them. “Oh,” she said, and he looked up at her, fighting to keep a smug, shit-eating grin off his face.
“Do you want me to stop?” He pushed the dress up a little more, kissed her inner thigh. Licked that soft, smooth flesh.
“Nonononono,” she answered, spreading her legs wider, hitching up the dress on her own. John kissed his way up higher, feeling that he must have hit his head sometime earlier today, and this was all the most perfect, miraculous dream in the world. “I know what you're going to do,” she managed, tipping her head back.
“Is that so?”
“After my change, I researched my new body. I watched – ah, don't stop, don't stop.”
“What did you watch?” It was cruel to ask her questions right now, but he had a good idea where this was headed, and he wanted to hear her say it.
“Recordings of your...mating practices. Oh, please. Please.”
John leaned back a bit on his heels, slowly sliding the dress the rest of the way up. He was expecting a tiny pair of pretty black lace panties, cut high on the sides. Instead she was wearing what looked like a tight, short slip made out of a soft heather gray fabric; he found it ten times sexier than any lacy lingerie would ever be. He looked up at her, needing one last bit of permission. She opened her eyes at the pause, and those eyes were half-lidded with desire, giving her a sultry look so at odds with her normal Minbari Ambassador appearance that again he was struck with the idea that none of this was real, and that he would wake up soon, probably on the couch in his office.
“John, are you going to put your mouth on me or not?” she asked, hands gripping the couch cushions in a death grip, her hips rocking up into the air.
“I'm going to do anything you want,” he answered truthfully. He drew down the slip, shoved the dress up as high as it would go, took in the view for a nice, long moment, and dove in.