The Morning After

Notes: A long while ago, about a year-and-a-half actually, I wrote a little something called Sex and the Street. This probably won’t make much sense unless you read or remember the girls’ night out story. I’d written this just after that as a little sequel for the people who wanted to see that. I promptly forgot about it and it’s been sitting on my hard drive ever since.

Anyway, this is for Susan who needed a little distraction from all the stuff going on around her lately. She asked for a little something shippy, from me, go figure, and this was the best I could do. It might also work for those of you bearing with me and suffering from the dark overload of A Little Lost.

Best of all it’s short. For me. And you can always blame Susan for it. I know I do. Gratitude and props to Eva for the quick beta and to both her and Susan for their encouragement, enthusiasm, and everything else. As always, all mistakes remain mine.

Warnings: Nope. None for sex or violence or dark adult themes. Maybe just a teeny-tiny one for some bad words and adult situations.
Rating: R
Setting: TF
Spoilers: Not that I can see
Disclaimers: Definitely not mine. They belong to Henson, et. al. No copyright infringement intended. There is definitely no money being made.

---

The music pulses and pounds, alive and vibrating in time with the bursting neon lighting up the dark, bathing the bodies on the floor, beautiful bodies, writhing in time with and answering a primal rhythm, desperate with need.

What the hell? Techno? House? Club?

He doesn't know these people. Doesn't know where he is. But then he sees her. He'd know her anywhere, anytime. Long, supple body moving with her feline grace. Perfect porcelain skin that he remembers feeling. His fingertips itch with his desire to touch her. He wants to run them along every hill and valley of that perfect body. Feel her against him.

He ignores the man whose hands are all over her.

She spots him across the crowded room and their eyes lock. The electricity flowing between them has nothing to do with the energy in the room.

They're the only two there.

She walks slowly toward him, hips swaying, drawing his eyes in a lover's gaze, hypnotizing him until his desire ignites and fires through his veins as she reaches him.

She straddles him and settles in his lap. He settles his hands on her shoulders; then runs his fingertips lightly down her bare arms, around her waist to rest possessively on her hips, settling her more comfortably on him.

She reaches over to pluck the cherry from the drink on the table. Her lips part to surround the red sphere and it disappears. He wants his lips there. He wants to explore the warm, wet inside of her mouth for it.

He doesn't even like cherries.

Her lips part again, her tongue peeking out to show him a perfectly tied little red bow. His mind blanks, his last conscious thought that she must feel the burgeoning bulge in his pants, the tightening of his grip on her hips, the thrust of his hips rocking her ever so slightly as his body reaches out to hers.

She smiles as her hand comes up to take the stem. Her tongue flicks again, moistening her lips as her arms slide around his neck, bringing herself ever so slightly closer to him. His right hand slips around her hip, slides up her spine and under her hair to cup her head while his left hand slips around her waist to draw her more closely to him, locking their bodies together.

He’s lost in her eyes, lost in her body, lost in the depths of his love and lust for this woman. Need, want, and desire coalesce deep in his gut as he draws her closer, crushes his lips to hers, fuses his body to hers, his tongue meeting, twisting, dancing, mating with hers.

The way he wants their bodies to.

“John?”

He jerked awake, disoriented and painfully hard. His hand moved of its own volition, trying to be unobtrusive beneath the sheet and his dad's watchful gaze.

“John?”

“Yeah dad,” he mumbled groggily, trying to get his sleep bleared eyes and image laden brain to focus.

“You ok, son?” Jack asked carefully.

“Yeah, dad,” he mumbled again. “Whaddaya need?”

“Just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready.”

John sighed heavily, shifting slightly trying to become more comfortable, less obvious.

“Thanks dad. Yeah, just give me a few minutes to hit the head, get ready.”

He shifted again, trying to ease his discomfort.

“You sure you're ok, son?”

“Yeah, dad, just give me a few and I'll be down.”

Jack nodded and slipped out of the room. John exhaled sharply and gave up trying, still too hard to notice any perceptible difference.

He lay there trying to stop, or at least slow the continuing play of images in his mind and the feelings and responses of his body. Shifting himself again, he sighed at the realization that it was going to be at least a few minutes before he could use the bathroom.

******************************

More than a few minutes later, more like half an hour later, John found himself in the kitchen, smelling coffee and looking at the French toast and bacon on the counter. Jack sat at the table sipping coffee and eyed his son.

“Rough night? You don't usually sleep in this late.”

“Not really. Just tired,” John replied lightly, moving toward the coffee maker, snagging a cup on the way. He poured, spooned cream and sugar, sipped gratefully, and felt the beginning of the caffeine hit.

“I didn't think you went out.”

“I didn't. Just couldn't sleep.” John looked at the food, decided to pass, and went to sit opposite Jack at the kitchen table.

“Something bothering you, son?”

“No. Why?”

“Not eating.”

“Not hungry.”

“Oh.”

Resting his arms on the table, John wrapped his hands around the cup, slid his eyes to his father, and kept his tone light and casual. “Hear from Livvy this morning?”

“No. But I'm not surprised.” Jack jabbed a piece of French toast with his fork. “She took Aeryn out last night, and since she didn't call, I figure they probably got home late.”

“Yeah,” John said, thinking of his own unanswered message on his sister's machine.

Jack cocked his head and fixed his son with hooded eyes. “You got plans for today?”

“Nothing special,” he said, shrugging his shoulders casually. “I’ll run by the mansion. Make sure nobody’s gone stir crazy.” He pushed back his chair and stood, turning to go to the coffee maker for another cup. “Thought I'd go see Livvy. Spend some time with her.”

Jack’s lips twitched up at the corners as he went back to his breakfast. “Say hi to Aeryn for me.”

******************************

“What are you doing here?” Olivia asked sleepily, running a hand through her hair and drawing it up into a high ponytail.

“Good morning to you, too,” John drawled. “I thought I’d just come over and hang. Haven’t seen much of you lately, ya know?”

“I’ve been right here, ya know?” Olivia drawled back, snark heavy in her tone as her eyebrows raised and the side of her lip twitched. “People that want to spend time with me do. And isn’t it just a little early for this?”

“We gonna have this conversation out here on the porch?” John smiled tightly, stepping through the door and past her. “It’s not that early. You just getting up?”

“No,” she sighed, closing the door and following him into the kitchen. “I’ve been up for a few minutes now. Coffee’s made.”

“Rough night?” John’s voice floated back toward her.

“Rougher on Aeryn,” she snorted. “She’s not up yet.”

“What does that mean?” John asked harshly, stopping dead in his tracks and turning aggressively on her. “What happened to her?”

“Lighten up, John,” she backpedaled, palms up facing him. “It was just a girls’ night out. I thought we could both use one. She had…fun.”

“Fun?” John asked flatly, eyes narrowing. “Aeryn had…fun?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, we had a good time. She’s a great girl, John. I like her,” she dropped her hands and pinned him with a glare and her tone. “A lot.”

“Of course you do,” he sighed, turning again and snagging a cup before moving to the coffee maker. “Why isn’t she up yet? Aeryn never sleeps in.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Didn’t you get my message?” John asked, shifting gears as he poured.

“What?”

“I left a message on your machine. You didn’t call back.”

“Well, it was late when we got home.”

“How late?” John asked quietly.

“I don’t know. We were tired. Aeryn was already asleep when I played your message. I didn’t wanna wake her.” Olivia coughed a laugh at the memory and rubbed her temples. “Probably couldn’t wake her.”

“You got something to go with this?” John asked, holding up his cup.

“No. That’s where I was going when you got here. There’s no food in the house. I gotta go pick up some things,” she said, snagging the keys. “You wanna come with me? I won’t be long.”

“Nah. I’ll just hang here, if that’s ok with you.”

“That’s fine.” Her voice floated back to him as she turned and started out of the kitchen. “I’ll be back.”

******************************

He was climbing the stairs two at a time before Olivia’s car was even out of the driveway.

This is insane.

He forced himself to stop dead in his tracks when he reached the top of the stairs.

You are insane.

He looked down the hall at the semi-closed door and darkness of the guest room.

Balls the size of Texas and the color of the sky.

Aeryn was in there. It was the one place on Earth he shouldn’t be. Not now.

Not without the Lakka.

He began moving slowly down the hall, like a moth to flame. He couldn’t have stopped himself to save his soul.

Damn.

He found himself at the semi-closed doorway and stopped. Taking a deep breath, he listened intently for the slightest sound, and then slipped silently into the darkened room. Just inside the door he stopped, letting his eyes adjust.

The sun wasn’t on this side of the house yet, and while the sheer curtains were drawn the shade was not. A pale stream of sunlight bathed Aeryn’s still form on the bed. He watched her closely for any sign of movement, wondering if she’d heard him enter. Taking a chance, he stepped silently toward the bed.

She was laying face down, hair fanned out in a dark pool, framing a flawless cheekbone, a perfectly arched brow, and her generous lips, slightly parted. He leaned in close enough to feel her warm breath on his face. Felt his control slip and moved again, aching to kiss her, to feel the gentlest brush of his lips on hers.

His eyes traced a path around the delicate shell of her ear, down the delectable column of her neck to where it joined her bare shoulder. Her arms were curved toward her head, one hand lost in her hair, the other curled under her chin. Her long legs carelessly trailed toward the footboard.

Oh, hell yeah, baby. Wrap me up in those arms and legs, put a bow on me and take me home. Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours.

He hunkered down by the side of the bed, eye level and close enough to touch the whisper soft sweep of her closed eyelashes, to feel her warm breath on his outstretched hand, moving of its own volition to gently stroke the perfect, porcelain plane of her cheek, the slightly parted lips and…the pulse pistol aimed directly at his head.

Instinctively he rocked back on his heels, failed to compensate for his momentum, and landed on his ass, knocking over a bag he hadn’t noticed before in the process. He found himself looking up into a single open, blood shot eye that pinned him with a baleful glare. Her head hadn’t left the pillow, her body hadn’t shifted its position on the bed, but her hand had moved so quickly he’d been unaware until it was too late.

“What are you doing here?” Aeryn rasped from her position on the pillow, her voice low and raw and hoarse.

“Came by to see Livvy,” he began carefully, palms up, trying to maintain his dignity and the pretense as she retained her clear line of sight. “She went out to get something for breakfast so I thought I’d see how you were doing.”

“That was very…considerate of you,” she murmured, pushing up on all fours and shoving the pulse pistol back under the pillow before slowly maneuvering herself along the bed.

He was mesmerized by her movement, her long, lean body arching with feline grace, and his fingertips itched with the desire to run feather-light down the silky sweep of her spine, along the sweet spot of her hip, to bury themselves in the firm, well-muscled curve of her ass. He was lost in his need to touch her, to breathe her in, to savor the scent and feel of her firing through his every nerve ending as he leaned in closer to her.

He’d never know if he’d made a sound or if she sensed him moving toward her, but suddenly she stopped, and ever so slowly her head swiveled toward him. The warning barely registered in his lust crazed brain, but it was enough to stop him, forced him to shake himself from the haze in his head and try to cover his ass.

“What are you doing?”

“Bathroom,” she mumbled.

“Need any help?”

“No.”

She struggled to her feet, covered the distance to the bathroom, leaned heavily against the door jam for a moment before turning her head ever so slightly in his direction.

“I can handle it.”

She disappeared inside, closing the door firmly behind her. A moment later, John heard the sound of running water.

Sighing heavily, he rolled to his knees, trying to decide if it was safe to go check on her. He started to rise, and his gaze fell onto the spilled contents of the bag. Without thinking, he reached over to gather them up, and froze, his brain slow to process what it was seeing.

Liquid Silk. Body Slides. Motion Lotion.

Oh. My. God.

Honey Dust. Love Licks. Chocolate Body Paint.

Oh. Hell. Yes.

******************************

Breaking the kiss with a last, lingering tug of his lower lip, she slides slowly and seductively out of his arms and off his lap. He follows her up, refusing to let any distance come between them and fuses his body to hers. Taking his hands in hers, she undulates her way across the dance floor, through the writhing mass of bodies, moving in time with her. His breath comes rapid and shallow as they glide in effortless choreography, eyes locked together as he loses himself in the sight, scent, and feel of her.

Halfway across the floor, his hands slide around her waist to pull her in hard and even tighter against him. Hypnotized, held captive by scorching desire, locked eyes to hips, he follows the sway of her body across the floor. He’s on fire, lust burning deep in an all consuming need to feel her, skin to skin against him.

Oh, god.

He needs to have his lips and hands on her, feel her body responding to his.

Above. Beneath. Joined.

He’s got a plan.

Take her home, fuck her senseless, frell her blind, make love to her until neither one of you can walk.

Stumbling through the door into the cool night air, he spins her around, back up against the wall as he crushes her lips with his. His hands come up to cradle her face while his lips and tongue devour hers, kissing her open-mouthed, wet, and deep.

Great plan, John.

She pulls the shirt out of his pants and long, strong fingers spark an electric trail that fires up and down his spine, frying nerve endings and synapses, short-circuiting his higher brain functions and somehow shooting straight into his groin. Her hands settle on his hips to pull him even closer.

She moves suddenly, their mouths and hips still locked, and he’s pinned against the wall, her hands moving to undo fasteners. Her lips leave his, and when he tries to follow, she pushes him back firmly, bracing his shoulders against the wall. Her tongue traces a path along his jaw before kissing her way down his neck and along his collarbone. The shudder that racks his body when she nips at the join of neck and shoulder has nothing to do with the cool night air flowing across his overheated skin.

Hers is better.

A groan escapes him as her body slides and kisses its way down his, her tongue flicking out to tease a nipple. His body arches, hips canting forward as she works. His hands fist in her hair as her tongue and lips blaze a hot, wet trail caressing his skin.

He’s going to explode.

She’s on her knees in front of him, breathing soft and warm against his skin, her tongue and lips continuing to work their magic as her hands work his pants down over his hips. Another groan escapes his lips as her hands trail up his inner thigh to gently cup him, and her warm, wet mouth envelops him, takes him in.

So good, so good, so good.

His hips cant forward again, hands in her hair gently guiding her as the pounding rhythm from inside runs through his body to echo the pulsing in his groin. Her cheeks hollow as her mouth and talented tongue work him. His body arches more tautly as his hips push forward, pumping erratically and…

“John.”

His head swiveled slowly toward the sound of her voice and he looked up with heavy lidded, glazed eyes. Staring stupidly, his hand rose of its own volition, the back of it swiping along slack lips.

He thought he might be drooling. His sex soaked brain refused to cooperate and his lips wouldn’t work. “Uh…”

Narrowed eyes targeted his hand and he slid his to follow her line of sight to find his fingers still locked in their death grip around a small, smooth, pink cylinder.

“John?”

His eyes found her again, locked and focused on her as visions of a very happy Aeryn danced through his head.

She stood rigid, at attention, chin tilted just slightly up so that that hooded eyes looked down on him. An elegant arm stretched toward him, hand out, palm up, long, lethal fingers slapping commandingly against the heel of her hand.

He shifted awkwardly and rolled to his knees. Hands braced on the bed, he climbed to his feet. Four short, slow strides brought him to within arms length of her.

His hand floated up to hers. “Present for Chiana?”

The corner of her lips curled up in disbelief. “You don’t think she has her own?”

His lungs seized in a spasm of choking as she reached over and snatched the Rabbit from his hand. He staggered back as her unsympathetic eyes stabbed at him and then closed as the sound of his hacking drove pointy tipped spikes into her brain.

He ran the heel of his hand across his lips as the coughing fit subsided. “Uhm…now that you’re up…want some coffee?”

“No, thank you.” She pinned him with a glare. “I’m going back to bed.”

She knows how this stuff works?

He staggered back a step as his eyes locked on the pretty pink toy in her hand. “Bed?”

She goes for this?

“Yes.” She followed him. “Unless there’s something that you need?”

Maybe a demonstration?

Biting down hard on his lip, he thought he really did have a death wish. “No. Nothing.”

And that’s exactly what you’re gonna get, dumbass.

His feet kept moving in reverse. “I’ll just go downstairs and wait for Livvy.”

The door slammed shut in his face. A shiver shuddered through him as he cocked his head and a spasm rippled across his jawline.

Girls’ night out my ass.

A tic pulled at his eye as his lips twitched. He spun on his heel and marched down the hallway.

Livvy’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.