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Your Move, Doctor	By : DestinyBrighthope Category: Stargate: SG-1 > Stargate Atlantis Views: 1784 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Destiny Brighthope does not own Stargate:Atlantis and is making no profit off this little piece of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Jennifer
- 2-Rodney
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- 2
What happened after the door opened in Your Move, Doctor? To find out, let's turn back the clock to the day after Jennifer's surprise visit to Rodney's lab.

MGM owns SGA

Little ol' Des owns little to nothin'

Your Move, Doctor

Part 2

by Destiny Brighthope

The texture of her lips haunted him, hardened him at the most inopportune times, and her challenge echoed in his ear:Your move, Doctor. Rodney loved competition almost as much as he loved Jennifer, so he accepted. Midnight the next day found him at her door freshly showered, shaved, and cologned. The sensor on the wall would trigger a chime, announcing his presence. He raised his hand.

And then stopped. If he rang now, he'd appear too eager. Make her wait, he reasoned. Heighten the anticipation. She'll thank you later.

A twitch of his hand activated the sensor anyway. Oops. He heard shuffling inside and stole away, rounding the corner just before the door opened and Jennifer peered out into the night. From his place of concealment, Rodney spied the look of disappointment that twisted her lovely features. Part of him was pleased; another part wanted to rush back and chase away her blues.

The next days were a special brand of torture—the self-inflicted variety. He engineered it so they didn't sit together during briefings. He made certain they shared meals only in the presence of others where the topic of their encounter could not be safely raised. He arrived early for movie night and seated himself between John and Teyla.

That last gamble almost cost him. Rodney was not without rivals for Jennifer's affection, and the most dangerous of all had just arrived. Ronon set his sights on the empty chair beside Jennifer. Rodney was halfway out of his seat when salvation arrived in the unlikely duo of Lieutenant Cadman and Nurse Marie. Cadman distracted Ronon while the nurse claimed his intended seat.

Rodney had learned his lesson. No more delays. He must strike this very night.

The movie screen blurred as he formulated his plan. He'd leave early before the credits rolled and surprise Jennifer at her quarters. Was it too late for flowers? Next time, then. Confidence brimming, he settled in to watch the rest of the film.

Outside her door he rang the chime. According to his watch, the film ended 17 minutes ago. Generous soul that he is, he allotted her extra time for a leisurely stroll back to her room.

He listened for the rustling of sheets, the padding of bare feet across the floor. He imagined her delight as she answered the door to find the man of her dreams ready, willing, and able to satisfy all her carnal cravings. He heard nothing.

Maybe she was in the shower. He rang again. Minutes passed before a dejected Rodney gave up and returned to his quarters. The only thought to penetrate the dense fog of his misery was that Ronon must have intercepted Jennifer after the movie, offering a sympathetic ear and a shoulder. Naive Jennifer would accept them at face value, but the offer wouldn't stop at a shoulder.

Rodney was out the door like a shot, righteous fury boiling in his veins. Calm and reason miraculously prevailed, and he returned on a hunch to access the duty roster. He sagged with relief. Jennifer was scheduled for a late shift. To reach the infirmary on time, she probably left the film before he did.

Briefly he considered surprising her at work, but the risk of discovery was too great in the pedestrian-heavy infirmary. And while his plumbing allowed for quick access through an open fly, hers made returning the favor a more daunting task. Besides, he wanted to take his time.

Tomorrow was soon enough. Consulting the roster again, he groaned. The day after tomorrow would have to do. Unless he wished to rendezvous in daylight. He would have been happy with an afternoon visit, but Jennifer showing up under the cover of darkness added a certain allure. It felt—he grinned—naughty.

Night it would be. At least this way, he'd have time to get flowers.

Rodney forgot the flowers. It did not even occur to him to pick them up until he stood at her door two days later. His bearing had relaxed considerably in the past 48 hours. He smiled at Jennifer when they passed, brushed her hand with his at meals, and demonstrated his interest in a dozen other ways. A weight had fallen from her shoulders, and she no longer eyed him with trepidation but anticipation and a little frustration. It was perfect.

Midnight had struck, and the time was right. He triggered the sensor.

In sleep pants and a black tank top she was breathtaking. He'd pictured this moment often: Jennifer in a revealing negligee, her lips painted a vibrant red, her lashes full and dark. This was better. This was real.

Before she could speak, he pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh."

He was unsure why he did this. Discretion, so vital in the lab, was unneeded in her quarters. Here, they could be as loud as they liked. The walls were soundproofed, and in any case, her nearest neighbors were on late shift for the rest of the week. The head of science made sure of it.

Jennifer's lips puckered, and she kissed his finger. Her eyes twinkled in merriment at the shudder that rippled through him.

Two could play this game, and having mimicked her opening salvo, he saw no reason to stop cribbing from her playbook. Ushering her inside, he waited for the door to slide shut behind him. Then he lowered his lips to hers.

He was gentle to start, working his mouth over hers slowly, methodically. It was more massage than kiss, and it worked. She melted into him. Her arms surrounded his waist, hands diving beneath his jacket to stroke his back. Her lips parted to release a moan, and when her mouth closed, it did not close entirely.

Never one to resist such a gracious invitation, Rodney nudged the opening with the tip of his tongue. Shyly, demurely, she responded. Their tongues caressed, lightning racing through them both, and she knew—Rodney was sure of it. Jennifer was his, and she knew. Suddenly, his Satedan rival didn't seem so tall.

The kiss intensifying, Rodney was faced with a critical decision, couch or bed, make-out session or night of passion? Since the overhead lights were out, the only illumination came from the bedside table. It was so dim in fact, that trying to maneuver across the room would be hazardous and irresponsible. For Jennifer's own good, then, he had to choose the bed.

But Jennifer was not ready to be moved. When he grasped her hips to begin the journey, she misinterpreted and pressed herself against him. Gasps tore from both their mouths as their genitals came into contact for the first time. Even through multiple layers of clothing, the feeling was exquisite.

Whatever plans Rodney had for the evening were forgotten, driven from his mind by the shared instinct of two lovers desperate for their first union. Hands fumbled, clothing was discarded, shoes kicked off, and before he knew it, both were stripped to their skivvies, lying atop her bed, devouring one another.

They'd have removed their underwear and tee shirts too, but once they reached the mattress, their desperation for one another spiked. Jennifer fished Rodney out of his fly, and he swept aside the crotch of her panties and entered her with two fingers.

She was dripping wet and warm. He could smell the river of her arousal, longed to taste it source, but a need greater in this moment than the need for breath or sustenance burned in his loins.

Taking his rightful place between her thighs, he guided himself true, and with an excruciating slowness, parted her labia. With just the crown inside, he savored the warmth of her slick interior.

He leaned over her, bracing himself with arms to either side of her head, Jennifer reached up to take hold of his arms, squeezing, pleading.

With one, two, three strokes, he buried himself inside. Lustfully, she cried out. Rodney thought he heard his name on the wave of her wail. If she had broken the rules by speaking, he wouldn't fault her for it.

He moved his hips, slowly at first, then more rapidly as her hips rose to meet him. Their motions synchronized flawlessly as if this were a choreographed dance they had long ago mastered. When he picked up speed, she moved frantically like a samba dancer; when he slowed to savor the sensation, she moved with a luxuriousness, her hips undulating beneath in a slow, sensuous rumba.

Not bad for their first time.

Arms burning, he rolled onto his back, taking Jennifer with him. Settling her on top, he thrust into her from below.

Sliding her arms out of her tank top, she allowed the shirt to bunch at her middle, freeing her chest for Rodney's gaze and his attention. She bit her lip when he began to fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples.

So taken was he with his new treasures, that his movements beneath her slowed. Jennifer took up the slack and rode him until orgasm overtook them both.

Afterward as they lay together, slick, sweaty, and thoroughly satisfied, Rodney broke his silence. The line was corny, but it served its purpose, ending their little game and allowing him to follow up with another, more serious pronouncement. Breath hung in his throat until she, her head on his chest, answered in kind.

Rodney sighed in relief. Silence might be golden, but more precious than platinum is I love you.

The End

There you have it, my darlings. Was it worth the wait?

Big thanks to RoryFaller, who read over the chapter and encouraged a reluctant me to publish.

Des
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Your Move, Doctor