Or, to be more precise, I should really write it the way I ordered it today: punkin spize lot-TAAAAAAAAAY!
Speaking of Starbucks - awkward. I'm up there with my laptop, happily typing away at some porn, when two guys come in and sit in front of me. No big, they can't see my screen. And then they spend the next hour planning this month's Men's Bible Studies for their church. They're talking about the Gospel of Mark, I'm writing about nipples. I kept waiting for The God In Whom I Do Not Believe to smite me right then and there. And then my tombstone would say: she died as she lived - writing about fictional TV characters having sex.
Title: The Importance of Being Precise
Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 1300 words
Rating: R for sexytimes
It had actually taken him awhile to realize their sex life was missing a certain something. The Shan'fal had been too weird an experience. The few times they had together after that had been rushed, frantic. After resolving the problems with Earth and forming the Alliance, he spent half the nights with her on one of her damned tilted beds, and it was all he could do to keep on them while lying perfectly still, let alone while having sex. Most of the time lately it seemed he was tired all the time, too tired to worry too much about his technique. So it was that it took nearly a month of marriage before Sheridan realized he'd never gone down on his wife, and she certainly had never returned the favor.
He only realized it the third time she grabbed on to his head and dragged him back up one night, away from where he really wanted to be. "Delenn. Stop it." He worked his way back to her belly, and she made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, hips moving restlessly beneath his chest.
"I want you inside me," she sighed.
"I'm getting to it."
"Not with your head all the way down there."
"It doesn't always have to be my cock inside you."
"What else are you proposing?" In response, he swirled his tongue down into her navel. She gasped in a way he hadn't heard since the Shan'fal, when he had first taken one of her perfect nipples into his mouth. Sheridan moved his tongue in and out of her belly button a few more times, one of his hands straying down to part her legs, when she jerked away from him, smacking his hand away.
"No," she said, in that voice that carried with it the deadly tone of finality he had heard so many times in Council meetings.
"Why not?" He looked up at her in surprise as she sat up against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chest. He'd seen that look on her face before - on the viewscreen in C and C, when she had ridden to the station's defense with White Star One, God rest its soul, and four Minbari cruisers. He waited, but that look was apparently the only answer he was going to get.
"Delenn," he whined, drawing out the last syllable of her name. Sometimes that worked, but not tonight, it looked like; not while he was cowering in the shadow of that magnificent glare. "I just want to eat you out."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do, you pretty little liar." Now he was in dangerous territory. She looked so small, legs curled up against her chest, arms around her knees; all slender white limbs and soft gray eyes. But this was the woman who had broken the Grey Council with nothing more than force of will, and here he was, calling her a liar - a pretty serious charge to level at a Minbari. "I found your computer file. The one you opened up in April of 2259. When would that have been? Right around our first dinner date?"
Delenn turned to look away from him, at the wall, and he could see her working very hard to keep her face impassive, but there was a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth. Sheridan crawled up the bed toward her, feeling predatory.
"You did all kinds of very interesting research. It kind of reminded me of a computer file I put together when I was fifteen years old." Now she was definitely struggling to keep the smile off her face. Sheridan slowly slid one hand along the sheets, toward the lovely place now blocked by her crossed ankles. "We've already done quite a few of the things that were in that file, but there is one very, very big thing that we haven't. One very big thing that is definitely in your little file. So I know that you do, in fact, know exactly what I mean." He thought that he was about to achieve glorious success, but just before his hand reached its target, she slid her ankles back securely and turned back to face him, head tilted imperiously.
"I have never heard that phrase before. It sounds cannibalistic."
"Okay, how 'bout this one? I want to go down on you."
"That sounds absurd."
"I want to fuck you with my mouth."
"That sounds anatomically impossible."
"Delenn, goddamn it!"
"I am not going to do something that sounds nonsensical. You will simply have to find a way to make it sound like an attractive use of my time. I'm very busy, John Sheridan, as are you. We should use our time wisely."
He rested his head against her hip, drew his finger up and down the back of her thigh. He wanted to taste her so badly he could hardly see straight. "There's a Latin word for it. I don't know what it is, but it's very fancy."
"I have read that word. It sounds like a gokk screaming in heat."
"Oral sex. I want to...oral sex you."
"That is not correct grammar."
"I want to..." Now he had to think; what other euphemisms were there? But Delenn wasn't hugely fond of euphemisms. She liked to clarify them and other idioms, jokes and bits of silliness in very technical terms. She wanted to know exactly what she was saying, and what was being said to her. "I want to use my tongue to stimulate your clitoris, and to simulate the movements of my penis when we copulate." A long beat, and Sheridan held his breath.
Delenn uncrossed her ankles.
Sheridan hopped up, on his knees in front of her, grabbing a pillow to stuff under her hips. He knew he was grinning like an idiot when he saw her smile back at him. "Oh, Delenn. Delenn, I love you. You have no idea. The things I'm going to do to you. I am going to make you see stars. I am going to make you come so hard you black out." She was laughing softly, but he also saw the tell-tale rosy blush spread over her chest that told him she was becoming very aroused; she'd never admit it, but he knew she loved it when he talked dirty to her. "They're going to come looking for me, and you'll just have to tell them that I'm too busy giving you head. Tell them to write me at John Sheridan, care of Delenn's sweet, wonderful, delicious, perfect pussy."
"John!" she cried out, laughing, the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Then he had her right where he wanted her, and fell upon her like a starving man at a feast. Her laughter died away, replaced by moans and cries louder and more intense than any he'd ever heard from her. She twined her fingers through his hair, holding him securely down. "Oh, John. I've wanted you to do this to me for the longest time."
What had she just said? He pulled his head away, looked up her body, writhing against the sheets. "What did you just say?"
"Sometimes I would watch the adult channel on the Babcom, feeling very improper, and imagine you doing those things to me. Especially this."
She whimpered, trying to push his head back down. "I've told you before. You're a problem solver. You like to win." He licked her once, watching as she threw her head back, exposing her throat. "John..." she called out, voice tight.
"You're the most perfect woman in the entire universe. You know that, right?"
"Yes, yes. Eat me, head me, whatever you call it, please, John."
So he did.