Four Times John and Elizabeth Have Sex, and One Time They Make Love by Shane Vansen
Summary: In which traumatic events and near-death experiences lead to sex. Spoilers for The Storm/The Eye, Siege III, Misbegotten, Progeny, TRW.
Categories: Fanfiction Characters: None
Genres: Angst, Drama, Episode Prologues & Epilogues, Fluff & Slush, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Romance, Smut & Porn
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 5724 Read: 3531 Published: December 22, 2007 Updated: December 22, 2007
Chapter 1 by Shane Vansen
Author's Notes:
Many, many thanks to lj'ers oparu, magnavox_23, and momm2five for betaing.

Canon-ish (by which I mean, if I did this right each part could conceivably fit into its respective episode without disrupting what we actually see).
i (The Eye)

From the moment he takes Elizabeth's hand to practically drag her up the stairs to the control area, John can't make himself be more than an arm's length away from her. He's respected her almost from the moment they met, started liking her soon after their arrival in Atlantis, and they've even managed to become friends in spite of the fact that she's a negotiator and he's career military, so he feels responsible for her safety in more ways than one. It's more than that, though. When Kolya threatened her life, when John believed she was dead, something inside him turned very dark and ugly. He's still trying to adjust to seeing her alive and whole beside him.

Elizabeth doesn't seem to mind that he's practically clinging to her as his screwed-up psyche tries to deal. She's been through a lot today too, and maybe she feels better having someone who's armed sticking so close at the moment. Or maybe she just realizes that it would be more trouble than it's worth to try to get rid of him right now and is merely tolerating his presence. Whatever her reasons, she doesn't say a word when he trails after her out onto the balcony during the eye of the storm.

"It's hard to believe we're only halfway through, isn't it?" she asks as they look out at the water. And it's true; except for the dark clouds hovering on the horizon and a little bit of damage to one of Atlantis' spires, everything looks calm. Looks normal. John wishes he felt the same way.

Elizabeth turns to face him, leaning one hip against the railing and reaching out a hand to rest on his arm. In a lot of ways, John thinks he knows her pretty well by now; he can read a lot of her expressions and her body language and, sometimes, even figure out how her mind works, and he knows that she's about to thank him for saving Atlantis, for saving her life and Rodney's. Something swells in him –- guilt and embarrassment, fear and pride, other things he can't put a name to –- and he doesn't want to hear the words. Right now, he won't be able to handle that sort of gratitude.

He doesn't mean to kiss her, but he does anyway.

She stiffens against him, gasping into his mouth, but before he can step back and apologize her hands are on the back of his head, dragging his mouth even harder against her own. It's his turn to gasp in surprise and she slides her tongue in against his, warm and wet. He slides his hands down to her ass and yanks her body flush against his own, pushing his growing erection into the softness of her belly with a groan.

Elizabeth's hands move beneath his shirt, blunt nails running over his back and sides before scraping over a nipple, and he whimpers. It occurs to John that they're in full view of anyone who might come out here so he begins backing her towards a small alcove on the far end of the balcony, where they will have some privacy. He strips her of her shirt somewhere along the way, followed shortly by his own, and her bra is gone before they crash into the wall. The two of them separate long enough to lose the rest of their clothing and then he's lifting her with one hand on her ass, the other under her thigh, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist. She has one hand around his cock, rubbing it against her opening, and if she's not careful this will be over before it's begun.

"Are you on anything?" he barely remembers to ask, kissing her urgently. She looks confused for a second, but then her expression clears and the "Yes" isn't even out of her mouth before he's plunging inside her, burying himself fully on the first thrust. Elizabeth cries out, muffled by his mouth, and he doesn't give her time to recover before he's withdrawing and driving back in. She moans, tilting her head back to rest against the wall, using her arms and legs to readjust her position. Her lips slide from his but he adapts quickly, kissing his way down her neck.

They find a rhythm, fast and hard, almost brutal. John keeps his eyes open because all he can hear is Kolya's voice saying Dr. Weir is dead and he needs to see her, needs to see her skin flushing from exertion and the look of pleasure on her face and the way her mouth opens in a silent cry when he hits just the right angle. Watching her helps drown out that voice.

It's not long before Elizabeth begins grinding down on him, her breath coming in short gasps. He manages to slide a hand between their bodies to rub his thumb over her clit and in less than a minute, she's contracting around him so tightly that he can hardly move inside her. A few more thrusts and it all becomes too much. He can't stop the wordless cry of release and his hips move sloppily against hers as he empties into her.

When he comes back to himself, Elizabeth's hands are sliding rhythmically through his hair. He meets her eyes but can't figure out what she's thinking so he kisses her instead, trying to tell her how terrified he'd been for her without saying the words. He thinks she'll understand it anyway, because she seems to get him scarily well.

He lets her down carefully, catching her wince as her legs straighten and take her weight. "You okay?" he finds himself asking her for the second time that day.

She doesn't answer right away, instead finding her underwear and pants and pulling them on without looking at him. Finally she says, "I will be," and he feels oddly proud of her.

They gather up the rest of their clothes in silence, though John can't stop himself from glancing over at her every few seconds. She pauses in front of the doors that will take them back inside, her gaze directed at the oncoming storm. "It's going to be bad."

He smoothes down her hair so that it doesn't look quite so much like they'd been doing... what they'd been doing. "We'll tough it out."

She nods, meeting his eyes. "We will at that." And then they're heading through the door, him just a step behind like always.

ii (The Siege, part III)

It's barely twenty minutes after John's returned home from the Daedalus, after she threw her arms around him in the middle of the 'gate room before sending him off to speak to Everett, that Elizabeth runs into him again in the corridors near the living quarters.

The past few weeks have worn her down and the most recent attack has left her on edge, so she excuses herself for her overly startled reaction at literally crashing into John as she turns a corner. The fact that she's still shaking with relief at the knowledge he's safe and sound in spite of his kamikaze plan is no excuse for not letting him go the instant she's steady on her feet.

She grips his arms hard, feeling strangely like she's clutching a life preserver in the middle of the ocean, and maybe that's not an entirely inaccurate analogy. She's out of her depth just now, and he might be the only thing keeping her sanity afloat.

"What's up?" he asks when she stares a little too long. Elizabeth shakes her head and forces herself to relax her hold on him. She doesn't let go entirely, though.

"Nothing," she says, which is an outright lie that she knows fools neither of them. He cocks an eyebrow and she tries again. "It's just, I—I—" There are no words, she realizes. There are no words that can accurately explain how she's feeling right now. Instead of telling him, she grasps his jacket by the collar and pulls him down for a kiss.

He's a lot less hesitant in his response now than he was when she hugged him. His arms wrap around her immediately and his lips part against hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with her own. It's been several months since that afternoon out on the balcony, but somehow he tastes just like she remembers. She sinks into the kiss, letting herself get lost in the feeling of him there, against her. Alive.

John pulls back after a few seconds and, thinking she's made a huge mistake, Elizabeth's cheeks start to flame in embarrassment. Instead of stammering out reasons why they can't do this, however, John takes her hand and begins dragging her down the hallway. It's only then that it occurs to her that she all but attacked him where anyone could see, and she silently thanks the universe that at least one of them has some sense left.

His room isn't very far and they hurry inside, mouths fused together before his door is even all the way closed. They somehow manage to remove each other's clothing and their own, and Elizabeth pulls John over her as she sinks down on his mattress. She needs the weight of him just now, needs to feel surrounded by him in order to know that this is not a hallucination or wishful thinking.

John looms over her for a moment, pressing a quick and hard kiss to her lips before kissing his way down her body. He laves his tongue along her collarbone, flicks it over the peaks of her breasts, and scrapes his teeth down her stomach. He pauses as he shifts down to lie between her legs, his breath against her sex more arousing than it has any right to be. The first touch of his tongue has her arching off the bed.

He brings her to the edge twice without letting her fall over before he finally relents and sits up, kneeling between her thighs. His hands run the length of her legs from hips to ankles, lifting both to place her knees securely over his shoulders before he leans over her. She grasps his erection and guides it into her body, letting go only when the thick head is past her opening, and then he's thrusting-withdrawing-thrusting-withdrawing, until he's completely buried within her.

She gets a few moments to adjust before he starts to move, and though being on the bottom doesn’t usually do it for her she can't help but moan at the feel of him inside of her. Her adrenaline was already sky-high and his tongue has left her close enough to the breaking point that she knows it won't take long.

Her hands roam his body, rediscovering and memorizing his reactions. Remembering something, she runs a fingernail over his nipple and is rewarded by a groan, a shiver, and a particularly hard thrust. She brings up both hands to pinch and twist, sometimes sliding her hand up to pull him down for a kiss, and feels his arms begin to tremble with the effort of holding himself above her. When he gasps her name, she understands it for the warning it is.

Arching her back just right lets his pubic bone glance over her clitoris with every slide of his body into hers. He comes first but she's just seconds behind, crying out with the force of her orgasm.

John's arms finally give out and he collapses on top of her, his weight not as heavy as she expected. She brings her legs down, running the arch of one foot along his calf as their breathing evens out. Hers still isn't quite steady when she realizes someone's trying to reach her on the radio.

"I'll meet you in my office in five minutes," she tells Radek as John lifts his head and presses a lazy kiss to her shoulder before rolling off her. Before she can sign off and sit up, he's out of bed and picking her clothes up from where they're scattered on the floor.

They dress quickly and quietly. Elizabeth will be hard-pressed to make it to her office in time, but still she hesitates in front of the door. When John pauses just behind her, she spins around and leans up to press a final kiss to his lips. "I'm glad you're home," she says softly before dashing out the door.

iii (Misbegotten)

Elizabeth loves her quarters, and not because they're among the largest in Atlantis. That's incidental. This room offers one of the best views of the city, and she often finds herself staring out the window for hours on end when faced with a problem, or when Carson's caught on to the fact that she hasn't slept in a few days and orders her to rest.

It's where she retreats after the meeting with her formerly lost team and Woolsey. It's been an incredibly long week and she's exhausted, both physically and emotionally; trying to defend herself to the IOA when her city is at risk and her people are missing has kept her up nights and her reserves are running low. She needs a little while to regroup in private.

Naturally, someone knocks at her door.

Elizabeth sighs and squares her shoulders, preparing to bear yet another burden. "Come in," she calls, without bothering to turn around. By the time he's crossed the space to her window, though, she knows who it is; she's picked out his footsteps and identified the pattern of his breathing.

"So I hear you got raked over the coals while we were away," John says from close behind her, his breath ruffling her hair. She glances over her shoulder but he's looking out the window, not at her.

"A little more metaphorically than you," she points out. Really, she ought to be used to his close calls by now, but they still put her on edge every time.

He moves closer, so that she can feel the heat of his body against her back. "Is it true they almost didn't let you come back?"

She hums an answer, shifting on her feet so she's a little closer to him. It's been a week since she last saw him and she's craving the reassurance. "They still might recall me to Earth. It depends what Woolsey concludes in his report."

"They'd be idiots to put anyone else in charge." Then he abruptly changes the subject. "Elizabeth, look at me."

Startled, she twists around to face John and without knowing who initiated it, finds herself kissing him. Though they've done this a lot less often than they've done the near-death thing, somehow she finds it familiar. It's a lot easier to get used to his touch than it is waiting for hours or even days on end for news as to whether he's alive or dead.

Her hands know the layout of his belt and button, the length of his zipper, the feel of his flesh beneath the material. He helps her shed his pants and then he spins her around so that her back is to his chest as he undoes her pants, shoving them and her panties down to her knees. He bends her forward, his feet on either side of hers, and she braces her hands against the window sill and marvels at the view as he roughly enters her from behind.

The city and John, she thinks as he runs his hands beneath the shirt she still wears, cupping her breasts from below and flicking his thumbs over her bra-covered nipples. She'd be devastated if she lost either but losing both might break her. If she doesn't get to stay, at least he'll be safe long enough for her to say goodbye. On her more melancholy days, she's wondered if she'd ever get even that much.

His hands slide out from beneath her shirt, leaving goosebumps. He brushes aside her hair and she sighs at the first touch of his lips on the nape of her neck, tilting her head to encourage him. The palms of his hands come to rest over the backs hers, his fingers curling around her own, and Elizabeth holds on tight. He's become her anchor in so many more ways than she could have guessed. In the middle of the chaos, John makes her feel safe.

When he releases one of her hands she mewls a protest, but the brief feeling of loss is swiftly buried beneath the spike of pleasure when his finger begins circling her clit. She tries to spread her legs wider to ease the sudden pressure but her pants are still around her knees, limiting her movement, and all she can do his hold onto his hand and push back against him.

Her climax hits her without warning, unexpectedly violent, and she all but screams his name into the night sky. John swears, his movements becoming harder and less controlled, and a few minutes later he's holding her tight enough to bruise as he comes.

He pulls out of her and helps her dress, his touch suddenly a lot more gentle. He turns her back around to face him, brushing her hair back from her face, and opens his mouth to speak when he's interrupted by his headset.

"I'll be right there," he tells whoever's on the other end as he tucks in his shirt, then just stands and stares at her. "Woolsey wants to speak to me," he says eventually, though Elizabeth gets the impression he wants to say something else.

"You better go then," she says, and he gives her a short nod before turning and heading toward the door. At the last second she calls after him, feeling unexpectedly lighter; she almost hates that he can affect her moods so drastically. "John? Behave yourself." The grin is completely involuntary.

He jogs the short distance back to her, framing her face with his hands. "You're not going anywhere," he tells her fervently. "Not if I have anything to say about it." He presses a quick kiss to her lips but she pulls him back down for a deeper one before she lets him go, watching him until he's out of sight before turning back to the view of her city.

iv (Progeny)

Rodney's out of the jumper practically before the door is all the way open, eager to find Radek and share everything they'd learned. Ronon and Teyla follow at a more sedate pace, Elizabeth a few steps behind until a hand on her arm halts her progress.

"You guys go ahead," John tells the others. "We'll meet you in the infirmary in a couple of minutes." He doesn't give any reason for their delay but Elizabeth catches an appraising look on Teyla's face, and a knowing one on Ronon's, and the two of them leave with nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement.

John closes the jumper door behind them and backtracks to where she is standing between the forward and rear sections, trying not to let him see that she's still shaking. "Are you okay?" he demands, at odds with the soft tone he'd used the first time he'd asked. He uses one hand to tip up her chin, the other moving carefully over her neck, presumably searching for injuries. She shivers at the feel of his fingertips gliding over her skin.

"I'm fine," she tries to reassure him. "Thanks to you." She'd been just a few seconds away from losing consciousness when he'd tackled Niam. Elizabeth shies away from thinking about what could have happened if he'd been able to keep his hands around her neck for just a minute or two longer.

John lowers his hands to her shoulders. "You scared the hell out of me," he growls and then he's kissing her before she can respond, his lips bruisingly hard against her own.

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls herself closer to him, craving the warm, solid strength of his body. She's used to being the one who's safe at home, worrying about her teams being danger; being in the line of fire herself has left her shaken in a way she hasn't felt since Kolya.

His hands slide up to brush over her breasts, teasing her quickly into arousal. He's learning her body all too well and she's too willing to go along with it, to feel that rush that means they're both still alive. But as much as she wants to, Carson will be expecting them shortly and they don't have time. She pulls away, sliding her hand out from the waist of his pants. "We can't," she breathes, moaning as he presses a thigh between hers.

"We can," he disagrees, hands already at the fastening of her pants. Seconds later his hands are between her legs, stroking her through her panties, and Elizabeth has to lean back against the jumper wall before her knees fail her completely.

"They're waiting for us," she protests, but at the same time she's widening her stance so he has more room to manoeuver and damn him for knowing which she really means. He ignores her words altogether this time, kissing her instead, and Elizabeth abandons all thought of anyone who might be wondering what's taking them so long. God help her, but she needs this.

She fists her hands in his jacket as she kisses him back, groaning when he pushes aside her underwear and slides a finger inside her. Her hips tilt of their own accord, helping him get the angle just right. He moves in and out of her easily before adding another finger, and her back arches off the wall. Somehow he manages to get his thumb against her clit and she nearly bites through his lip at the first touch of his calloused digit against the sensitive nerves, her entire body shuddering.

In minutes she's too far gone to even keep kissing John, what little is left of her concentration focused entirely on keeping herself on her feet. He slips a hand beneath the front of her shirt and palms her breast, squeezing and kneading, and it's enough to send her orgasm spiralling out of control.

John's still moving against her when she settles, and it takes her a few moments to realize that his hand is now down his own pants and he's hurriedly jerking off. She presses the heel of her hand firmly against the prominent bulge and he makes a soft sound low in his throat before he comes, her name an almost broken moan on his lips.

Elizabeth freezes at the sound, frightened by the sudden ache of longing in her chest. The way he looks at her when he finally opens his eyes doesn't help, and she has to close her eyes against what she sees there. When he kisses her, it's with more tenderness than she's used to from him, and she has to clench her jaw against the tears.

She's cold when he pulls away. She distracts herself by pulling herself together, zipping and tucking and straightening, while John cleans himself up with some tissues from a spare kit beneath one of the passenger seats and sets himself straight as well. As soon as they're presentable she reaches to open the door, only to be stopped by John.

"You're okay, right?" he asks, sounding worried; he must have caught her change in mood.

Elizabeth musters a smile and brushes her fingers over his cheek. She's confused as hell, but that's not what he means and she's not ready to deal with this herself yet, let alone try to explain it to him. "I'm okay," she promises. He studies her face a little anxiously before he nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, then cradling her face in one palm. She lets herself lean into him for a moment before pulling back. Together, they head for the infirmary.

v (The Real World)

It's no surprise when Elizabeth shows up at his door just an hour after she sent him away, though it concerns him a little that it took her so little time; he would have banked on it taking at least a couple of sleepless nights to drive her to this point. Those five hours must have affected her even worse than he thought, and he's imagined some pretty horrific things.

He starts to speak but Elizabeth cuts him off with gentle fingers pressed to his mouth and a small shake of her head. He tilts his head in acknowledgement: she doesn't want to talk. Okay.

Her fingers brush against his lips and over his temple before sliding around to the back of his neck to draw him down for a kiss. John goes willingly, his arms slipping around her waist to bring her closer, opening his mouth to meet her tongue halfway.

It's something that's almost become familiar, the taste and feel and scent of her, but there's something different this time. The desperation that always drives them to cross this particular line is still there but it's muted, mixed up with something he wants to understand but doesn't. She's so quiet, almost withdrawn, and he aches with the need to make her feel better, to make everything all right for her. He doesn't know how to do that, though, so all he can do is follow her lead and hope he can be what she needs. That's pretty much what he's been doing for the last three years, after all.

Elizabeth pushes him backwards, toward his bed, her fingers already fumbling with his belt. He slides his hands up along her back, beneath her shirt, and she shivers as cool skin meets warm. John takes the opportunity to break from their kiss and run his lips along her jaw and down her neck until he reaches her collar.

Elizabeth has managed to unbuckle his belt but her hands falter for a moment when he scrapes his teeth lightly over the curve where neck meets shoulder, then dips his head to flick his tongue in the hollow of her throat.

She retaliates with a quick but solid push to his chest. He stumbles back a step only to find the bed against his calves and he ends up sitting down, hard, on the mattress. He can't help the startled oomph, and catches her lips twitching in an almost-smile before that quiet look is back.

His seated position puts him even with her stomach and he decides to take advantage of it, using gentle hands on her hips to bring her to stand between his knees. His lips land near her ribs and John feels her muscles jump at the too-light touch, feels the goosebumps forming beneath his tongue as he nips and licks his way along her skin. He nuzzles the underside of one breast as his hands smooth up her spine, shifts to the other one as he unclasps her bra, and then her upper half is completely bare before him.

John pulls back so he can look at her, because even though he's seen her naked before he can't imagine ever tiring of seeing her like this. She's too pale and thin for his comfort but she's still beautiful. He tells her so, watching the blush spread over her cheeks and down her neck to her chest.

One hand splays wide on the small of her back, the other rising to trace the line of flushed skin. He trails his hand down over her breast, brushing teasingly over her nipple and watching her chest rise with her sharp intake of breath. He repeats the motion with her other breast before he gives in and leans up to take a nipple between his lips. Elizabeth lets out a quiet whimper, a sound he's not only familiar with but has come to crave. Her body sways into his, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other threading through the hair on the back of his head, holding him close.

John switches from one breast to the other, sometimes licking, sometimes suckling, sometimes biting, keeping her off-balance. It isn't long before Elizabeth is arching into his mouth, her hand fisting in his hair so painfully that it draws tears. It's worth it, though, to know he's the one making her lose control like this.

His hands continue to run along her back and stomach and sides, tickling and soothing in turn. His pants are becoming uncomfortably tight but for the most part he's able to ignore it, at least until Elizabeth takes a step forward and her leg presses into him. He shudders, teeth closing over her nipple a little harder than he means to. She shifts position so that her leg is pressed firmly, deliberately, against him, right where he needs it, and there's no stopping the thrust of his hips.

With Elizabeth upping the ante his hands fly to the front of her pants, unbuttoning and unzipping and lowering in record time. He shoves her pants halfway down her legs and dances his fingers up her inner thighs, which part enough for him to brush against her panties. The material is already wet and his erection swells even more as he catches her scent.

Elizabeth's hands scrabble at his shoulders, tugging at his shirt, and he has to let her go so she can pull it over his head. As soon as he's free of the material he brings her feet into his lap, one at a time, ridding her of her boots. She pushes him onto his back before he can take care of her pants. He lifts his hips so she can pull his pants and underwear down and off, and shifts further onto the bed as she loses the remainder of her own clothing. Almost before he has time to think she's straddling him, sinking down around him, and –- god -– he's forgotten the intensity of this by half.

He expects her to start moving but she doesn't, just sits there, her inner muscles fluttering around him. He runs his hands up her thighs, one resting on her hip, the other moving up her side to thumb her nipple. She shivers, but otherwise doesn't move. It's only then that he catches her eyes and realizes that they're shining with tears she refuses to let fall.

John pushes himself into a sitting position, settling her legs around his waist and cupping her shoulders from behind. He thinks he finally gets why she's here –- not to prove she's still alive, not because of survivor euphoria, but because she needs to feel close to someone. He knows, knows, that she'll only let herself be this vulnerable with him, and that knowledge humbles him in a way he wouldn't have thought possible.

He hugs her close, feeling her shaky breaths against his neck. "I've got you, Elizabeth," he murmurs. "I've got you." Because it's the only thing he can promise.

He just holds her for a while, running his hands along her back as reassuringly as he can. Her tongue against his skin comes as a surprise and he jerks a little, his fading erection twitching in interest. Elizabeth doesn't give him a chance to recover, using her lips and teeth on his shoulders, his neck, his chin, until her mouth closes over his in a kiss that steals his breath.

Her hips shift against his, just a small circling of her lower body, but it's enough to wrench a moan from him. John's hands begin to move with renewed purpose, coaxing her body back to full arousal.

Neither of them has much leverage in this position but John likes the slow climb, likes that he can pay closer attention to what she prefers; their frantic couplings of before didn't allow for this type of slow exploration. Now, though, he knows that running his tongue along the shell of her ear makes her sigh, and that slow, deep kisses make her shiver and moan.

Her breathing has quickened, become ragged, and he can tell from the erratic clenching of her muscles that she's close. John pulls back and cups her face with the sudden need to see her. "Lizabeth?" She lets out a small whimper and his hips buck into hers at the sound. "Lizabeth, look at me."

It takes a few seconds but she raises heavy-lidded eyes to meet his, and in that moment John knows they're playing for keeps.

It's enough to shatter what little is left of his control. His arms clench tightly around Elizabeth as his back arches, and he throws back his head with a groan that would have been a shout if only he'd had the breath. Against him, he feels Elizabeth shudder and catches a sound that's more like a sob than anything else.

It's a while before his climax fades, and even then Elizabeth's muscles are still clutching at him weakly. She's collapsed against his chest, her face nestled into his neck, and he lifts a tired hand to brush back the messy curls tickling his cheek. He rests his lips against her temple. "Stay here tonight." They've never spent more than a few minutes together in the aftermath, and he's not sure if she'll stay. There's an intimacy implied that he's not certain she's willing to risk.

Her arms tighten around him. "Okay," she agrees softly, and John is surprised by the strength of his relief.

There's no way to separate gracefully, but John's too exhausted to care. They manage to shuffle beneath the covers, John on his back and Elizabeth curled into his side, her head on his chest. They lie quietly, his hand playing with her hair, but all John can think about is the expression on her face when he found her on the balcony earlier. "What happened when you were unconscious?" he finally asks. He needs to know, for her and for himself.

She tenses against him, and is quiet for so long that John decides that she isn't going to answer. Eventually, though, she relaxes, and with his hand running up and down her side, Elizabeth begins to talk.

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