It's three hours since the Wraith orbiting the planet and invading the city were (mostly) taken care of, a ZPM has been installed, and her entire expedition has been saved from certain doom. Elizabeth hasn't slept in something like thirty hours since before this, and even on Lantea that's a long time to be awake and she doesn't even know if she's useful anymore but she can't very well go to bed right now. In twelve standard hours the senior staff have to step through the gate back to Earth.
Back to Earth. Jesus.
Elizabeth looks around at the scorched and slagged control room and works very hard not to fantasize about lying down on the conference table, just rest her eyes for a second.
Under it, there's apparently still an active bomb which Lt. Laura Cadman's defusing with quiet, exhausted, efficiency. The whole place is hot and humid without the shields now that they have the cloak up. Laura's white t-shirt is sticking to her body in patches, sweat rolling down her neck and collarbone to soak parts of her shirt, nipples poking up, obscene—she got called out of bed to do this, Elizabeth realizes—and swallows down what must be adrenaline, running her own clammy palms down her BDU's. Any other kind of thinking is just trouble.
Except Cadman—Laura—is looking directly at her and they're the same height and her eyes are really really hot, like blazing hot, and there's a smudge of something dark on her left cheekbone and Elizabeth wipes at it without thinking, fuzzy with too many excuses, and Laura raises an eyebrow and smirks and, fuck. She hadn't even meant it like that, except that she had and Laura's licking her lips and God, she's so thirsty.
She tells herself that at least the bomb is taken care of and the room's glass-looking-material walls are one-way on command as she pushes Laura back on the table with wide, messy kisses. Laura's unbuttoning her BDU's with one hand and undoing her bra with the other and Elizabeth takes a second to appreciate the dexterity of explosions experts. It's really fucking sexy. (And Laura knows it and is grinning smugly against her mouth as she slides a finger inside Elizabeth, but moans along with her, which is gratifying.)
Elizabeth rides on Laura's hand for a bit, licking at her throat and working her own hand down but gets impatient and changes her mind, dropping to her knees. She smirks, licking at Laura's nipples through the wet t-shirt, means to be cursory but gets caught up in the salt and the texture and the way Laura's arching up, legs open and an ankle dragging up Elizabeth's back, utterly unthinking of how loud she's being. (Elizabeth's pretty sure the Ancients built the room to be sound-proof as well and spares a moment to think they're kinky fuckers but thanks them for the convenience.)
She finally gets into Laura's pants, and her shirt off so she can lick and suck directly at skin, but Laura's hands curl in her hair, pushing her down, though slowly, and Elizabeth laughs, letting her fingers work lazily before tasting, stroking and separating damp curls, wet and delicious, thumb slicking messy and deliberate up one fold and down the other and nowhere near where it's going to do any good. (Laura groans throatily at her: "Fuck Elizabeth what the hell.")
But Elizabeth just wants to watch her for a second, lips shiny and open like her legs splayed wide with invitation, wanton. She drags her teeth gently over the inside of Laura's thigh and smirks.
"Fuck me now or I swear to God." The hand on her head clenches in her hair, rough and needy like Laura's voice.
Elizabeth tips her head, "Yeah?" and slams her fingers in, sudden, grinds the heel of her palm against Laura's clit, thrusting hard and fast enough to shake her whole body and thinks fleetingly that she's out of practice and this whole arm is going to hurt for days, but then Laura's breath is hitching in the middle of the stream of "Oh, fuck, God," and her favorite: "'Lizabeth" to pant, and still her hips, and clench around Elizabeth's fingers and shudder.
She gets distracted by Laura's mouth and licks her lips, tasting as she leans forward, kissing her through the aftershocks, mouths clinging and Laura making soft, breathy noises that make her smile and curl her fingers that still inside Laura like a question and Laura nods and hums assent, thrusting shallowly with her hips, setting Elizabeth off again, fastfastfaster until they're both breathing hard again and Elizabeth's hand is thisclose to numb but Laura's eyes are caught in hers, a little bit glazed, and she's coming wordlessly this time. They're completely soaked in sweat now, drops rolling down skin cooling from evaporation, but it's somehow more bearable.
But Laura being Laura, has to open her eyes and grin, "Shower?" like she's not spread out on the main Lantean conference table, shirtless and pants around her ankles like a particularly good dream Elizabeth had once, and Elizabeth isn't meant to prepare for three months away for Earth and the journey back in the next eleven and a half hours.
"Yeah, okay" she tells Laura, instead, "I like showers."